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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721931">home isn’t a place, it’s a people</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelwolfie/pseuds/pastelwolfie'>pastelwolfie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Actual plot, Angst, Crossover, Dream POV, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Long lost boyfriends, M/M, Magic, Major character death - Freeform, Not Canon Compliant, Rebellion, Sorry Not Sorry, Torture, Tubbo POV, War, Wilbur POV, canon compliancy who?, for once in my stories dream isn’t an asshole wow, im barely restraining myself from making this super depressing be thankful, let the kids be kids, my writing my rules, no beta we die like friend, occasional guest-star povs too ig, other hybrids from the long list of characters not yet revealed, sweet jesus such a fucking crossover, we aren’t nice to the kids</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:02:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,714</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelwolfie/pseuds/pastelwolfie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>title subject to change, idrk how to title this my draft is just labelled ‘smp’ smh.</p><p>dream is leader of the great nation of fantasia, a fairly good ruler, but is now at war with the uprising l’manburg. with the help of his friends, dream is set on resolving the conflict by force or by more tame methods.</p><p>tubbo is merely a 16 year old boy with too many responsibilities, too many emotions he can’t deal with, and not enough attention.</p><p>wilbur is incredibly young for a general and a leader of a new nation, though he powers through as best he can. a haunting past of lost love and missing friends has driven him to where he is now, and no way in hell is he letting a man in a mask stop him now. </p><p>but if by fate or by destiny, conflicts and emotions create ripples in their pond of time, making tsunamis and floods that bring them all together in a series of dominoing events that may just spell the end of their war, but also the dawn of a new era.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Clay | Dream/Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit, more coming haha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. as the sound of sobbing silences the quiet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i really did say ‘fuck it’ and go through with this didn’t i-</p><p>look at me ma i’m not posting an angsty oneshot</p><p>apologies if this first chapter is short, they do get longer, i promise!</p><p>this is pre-written, it’s been in the works since late december and i’m currently about 3/4 the way done with my current, clear arc (1st half) but i’m only about halfway through the full thing. </p><p>this sits (as of now) at a comfortable 16k-ish words and roughly 11 finished chapters, i believe- </p><p>some character and relationship tags are yet to be added since i haven’t written them in to the story yet, but believe me: they’ll come.<br/>in the near future, i plan on bringing in loads of other content creators (not limited to mcyt or the dream smp) and have already included 2 non-dream smp creators already (plus maybe a self-insert oc whoops)</p><p>i can write roughly a chapter every 2-3 nights since motivation is amazing and i don’t plan on stopping until i’ve lived out my wildest dreams.</p><p>this fic was inspired by a pog piece called ‘inure’ i def got the whole secret bfs from there but i’ve twisted the narrative even more so i’m p sure you can just call the cannon ‘loose inspo material’ at this rate<br/>read inure here -https://archiveofourown.org/works/26293855?view_full_work=true</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>——🌊——<br/>
the dull aching that had slowly began to fill him up seemed to get heavier and heavier with each passing day. his spirit seemed to fade and weaken as the weight began to steadily drag him down. It was a day like any other, mining and trying his damn hardest to lighten the load, but the harsh words of his general seemed to bounce around his skull more often than was normal now, the loud hollering that he took all too much to heart ricocheting from one side of his mind to the other, like a record in his mind.</p><p>he’d decided that he’d had enough time in the mines, all alone.<br/>
he wanted some time in the woods, all alone.</p><p>so that’s what tubbo did. he got up, stashed his pickaxe and ores (keeping his iron sword, however) in a chest and headed off into the forest between l’manberg and fantasia. no-man’s land. he didn’t notice nor care if anyone called his name when he left all too abruptly, but knowing the side of the war he was stuck on, he could assume with slight certainty that no one had even noticed his sudden departure, less so notice his absence as a whole. his body seemed to have a conscience of its own, and he found himself crumpled on his knees in a small clearing in the forest. </p><p>depending on which way he looked, tubbo either had an unclear view of l’manberg, or a slightly clearer view of Fantasia, obstructed less by the thinner line of trees to that side of him. it was only a premature thought in the back of his racing mind that he had strayed too close to the other city, but the thoughts that ran rampant through his mind which had chased him here in the first place took majority of his mental capacity in the moment. breathing gradually became more and more of a struggle, as his vision began to grow blurred by the growing pool of tears sheathed within his eyes, threatening to break loose from the dam and plague his face. his body was already tense, muscles instinctively contracting as his self-deprecating thoughts of uselessness, inadequacy, shame, anger, grief, and pain swam noisily within his head. the only sound, asides from his shaken breaths and occasional ruffle of fabric as he strained his arms in an attempt to express himself to the nature around him, was the rustling of the leaves in the trees as the soft breeze forced them to sway gently back and fourth.<br/>
which is why when he heard the crunching of twigs, leaves and dirt underfoot, his head immediately snapped around to look at who was approaching him.<br/>
the face(or lack there of) which approached him made him jump slightly, panic swamping his thoughts as he managed to identify the person through the blur of his unshed tears.<br/>
white mask. green hoodie.<br/>
letting out a small, scared, almost pained exhalation of breath (it was akin to a gasp, but not quite), tubbo tried to back away, but in his petrified eagerness to escape fantasia’s leader, he only managed to achieve falling backwards slightly, to the point where he was sat with his knees brought up close to his chest, the weight of his upper body resting on his palms as they shot back to catch his body before he completely hit the ground. </p><p>dream was approaching faster than his shuffling was getting him away, and once he reached a close enough perimeter, his body seemed to freeze up as he followed dream’s movements towards him as best he could with his blurry vision. his pitiful shuffling stopped and tubbo’s breath hitched, the tightness of his throat and the weight in his chest both teaming up with his petrifying fear to prevent him from sucking in a breath of air.<br/>
he couldn’t tell though his tears wether of wether not his movements were aggressive, pitying or angry, so tubbo sat frozen, on the forest floor, entirely expecting for an arrow or a sword to pierce his chest and knock him fully to the floor, blacking things out forever.<br/>
what he wasn’t expecting, was for dream to just waltz up next to him, sit down cross-legged to his left, and use strong (though not aggressive) arms to pull the teenager into a surprisingly intimate hug.<br/>
his arms were wrapped around his back, in what tubbo could only guess (because really, at this point he had no idea what was going on) was a protective manner. he was stiff for a long while, struggling silently as his hands, which were grabbing fistfuls of (surprisingly soft) green hoodie, tried to push himself weakly away from fantasia’s leader, but his efforts were entirely put out by the older’s stronger grip. (grip? grip wasn’t the right word, was it? hold? embrace?)</p><p>after what felt like hours (but could have only been up to a few minutes), tubbo gave in to the older holding him, and allowed his body to relax entirely as dream began rubbing his hand across his back in a comforting notion. as he exhaled, he could almost feel the weight flowing from his body with the trapped air, sucking in a shaky breath in its place. allowing air to enter his lungs once again, he only subconsciously noticed how the air was laced with a the soft scent of some sort of citric, floral odour which washed a surprisingly reassuring wave of calm though his body. he wasn’t holding his breath anymore, and if anyone asked, he’d definitely attempt to blame this on his lack of oxygen, which could have definitely played a part in his submission.<br/>
tubbo couldn’t see the face behind the mask, but guessing from the soft hushing and surprisingly gentle hold, he could only wager that it was sympathetic and pitying.<br/>
but that wasn’t what he was thinking about upfront.  his mind was a melting mess of why’s, please’s, help’s, fuck’s and incoherent, half-finished thoughts flooded thoroughly with shame, but trampled by a rare ocean of relief.<br/>
sobbing gently into dream’s hoodie, eyes tightly shut, he would have missed any and all sighs of the concerned features of the older’s face, even hidden behind the porcelain white of his mask.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. crashcourse, history style.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>for once in my life i’ll prove i am capable of writing fluff and not just angsty painful shit</p><p>short again ik, we’ll get longer when we get there😒</p><p>also yes i am aware that up until like, maybe chapter 6-7 i spell ‘l’manburg’ as ‘l’manberg’ a’ight i know please just deal with it my draft app doesn’t have a search and replace feature so<br/>i do stop at some point lmao</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—🌊—</p><p>he didn’t know how it had happened, or how it kept on happening, but dream was constantly finding himself pulled to that little clearing in the woods, whenever he was out hunting  on his own, or was just taking a walk to clear his head. <br/>but, somehow, among the chaos of the war, he and tubbo kept on finding eachother. the very same place, every time. unlike their first meeting, tubbo progressively got less and less scared of his presence after each ‘meeting’ (again, that didn’t feel like the right word. session? encounter?). they began to talk, and 2 weeks in, they would talk freely like long-time friends, their natural personalities shining through. dream was tempted to say it was almost a highlight of his days, as they’d meet eachother almost every other day. if not, the next time they found eachother there they’d apologise, often equipped with a wild story of what had prevented them from coming the previous day.<br/>despite knowing the tactical advantage this could have, dream was resolute on keeping the information to himself as he began to see the boy as a younger brother, and he couldn’t help but feel as though tubbo thought of him as an older brother. it warmed his heart in a way he hadn’t quite felt before, being an only child and all that (well, not really, but basically. the siblings he did have didn’t count to him). they began exchanging stories, funny or traumatic, and almost stubbornly declared numerous times that they were, despite being in a literal war against eachother, there if the other ever needed. it was more so if tubbo ever needed him, but dream was more than happy to assist the younger boy, enjoying his presence and attitude more than he probably should, being the leader of their enemy’s nation. <br/>one day, however, a particular story (or vent, he might claim) from tubbo almost made his world stop spinning. his face fell, but tubbo couldn’t tell from behind his mask. <br/>“i’m starting to worry about wilbur. he’s- he’s out of it, i don’t know... he’s spending lots of time at... this gravestone. it isn’t in a proper burial sight and i’ve even seen him sleep by it a few times. he’ll get these roses and grip them so tightly that his hands are - are bloody and- and torn by the time he lets go. he- he isn’t focusing on his duties as a leader and- and, dream, i- i think he’s going mad?” <br/>he was listening intently, concern blatantly etched into his body language. while the younger had assumed it was for tubbo’s future wellbeing under such a ‘manic’ man, dream couldn’t help but feel an undying worry for the general himself. leading a war against him or not, he was still his wilbur. his wilby.</p><p>“does the grave have a name? any dates?”<br/>he asked, a hand reassuringly on the other’s shoulder. tubbo appeared to think for a few moments, before nodding- <br/>“y-yeah, i think it does. u- um, it says - 1999 to- to 2014, i - i think, then- then just the word ‘freckles’, i think?”<br/>dream couldn’t stop he slight tensing of his body as he almost felt his heart drop in his chest. <br/>oh. oh no.<br/>“is- is that bad? do- do you know her?”<br/>after a few heartbeats pause, dream corrected tubbo:<br/>“him.”<br/>“w-what?”<br/>he looked down through his mask, seeing confusion etched into tubbo’s features, dream could also practically see the gears turning inside the afore mentioned’s head.<br/>“him. it’s a he buried there. or, supposed to be, anyways.”<br/>genuine, lost confusion weighed heavily in tubbo’s voice-<br/>“h-how do you know? do you know who it is- or, or who it’s supposed to be.”<br/>dream gave a nod, his mind finally decided.<br/>it was now or never.<br/>“th- then, who- who is it-?”</p><p>“it’s supposed to be me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>look at me not posting at 1 am pFFf<br/>shouldn’t be me💀</p><p>anyways next chapter we get some plot ik wow it’s not just worldbuilding<br/>next chapter also a wilbur pov so huh</p><p>anyways have a poggers day ig</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. the past really is out to get you, isn’t it?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>l’manburg may or may not have an unwanted visitor...</p><p>how did he manage it, anyways?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HAHA YOU THOUGHT</p><p>lmfaoo no comfort here<br/>you gotta go through all the angst first, THEN you can get the tooth-rot, mkay?<br/>tw// violence!! gore? swearing.<br/>big man isn’t nice so he gets his henchmen to do the dirty work<br/>not bc he doesn’t want to, he just wants to traumatise people :D </p><p>not me posting a second time today 0.0<br/>look i just really like this work i’m genuinely proud so i’m getting it out there</p><p>i am going back to try and tweak/lengthen some chapters since i’m now realising that half are like, 6-9 hundred words and some others are like, 1-3k words PFF</p><p>uh yeah back to tubbo pov next chapt.<br/>probs gonna post it later today i want to hurry this along i have big girl plans for this</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—🌊—</p><p>running a nation with 2 sixteen year-olds as your right-hand men was obviously a bad idea. he was well aware. especially when one had probable severe anger issues and an incapability to keep his mouth shut, and the other kept on disappearing at almost regular intervals. that’s what gave wilbur the excuse to pin it on them when it all went to shit.<br/>
but you know what?<br/>
he didn’t.<br/>
of course he didn’t.<br/>
they were fucking kids in a war bloodier than they should see for a long time yet.<br/>
and freckles wouldn’t have wanted him to. even that he’d known.<br/>
despite how easy it would be, he wouldn’t blame them. the main preventing factor being his own crippling guilt, but that was besides the problem for now.<br/>
right now, his issues were getting tommy and fundy out of danger, but he wasn’t quite sure how to achieve that, seeing how he was tightly bound by rope behind his back with a large, metal, clamp-like collar chaining him to the floor of a dungeon he didn’t even know they had. there was incoherent shouting and whimpers from beyond the damp cell, but he found his eyes resting on fundy, who was tied with rope to a chair at an old, oak table with a cloth rag gagging him, rendering him practically mute, unlike himself.<br/>
after an unbearable period of time, listening to the muted yelling and pleas from outside, the wooden doors opened, and in stepped the devil himself. horns curled almost perfectly around his face, outlining his features to make them look much more sinister than they should do, dressed in a black suit and red tie.<br/>
schlatt.<br/>
fucking schlatt.</p><p>and behind him, though looking slightly more worse for wear (specifically speaking an eerily hollow look on his face, suspiciously rosy cheeks and a dribble of blood from a cut across his eyebrow) was none other than quackity, wings folded tightly at his back.</p><p>silently, schlatt brought up an extra chair across from the table, though it was pushed closer to the wall, nearer to him.<br/>
wilbur noted grimly how it didn’t prevent his view of the table fundy was sat at.<br/>
“i’m going to ask you this once wilbur, do you relinquish your role as acting general and formal president of l’manberg to me?”<br/>
the sneer in his voice was repulsive, and wilbur barely refrained from snapping an instant reply to his face, insulting his filthy tactics. he shot fundy a look, as if asking his approval. fundy was, after all, in the hot seat. the look he was given in return, alongside a small yet confident nod, was enough to push the venomous words from his mouth:<br/>
“never, you treacherous asshole.” his eyes were wild with a blazing fury he didn’t quite know how to control, but the flames were terrifyingly swiftly put out as schlatt chuckled maniacally, nodding at a slightly trembling quackity. he could see the hesitance in the teenager’s movements and body language, but he could feel his blood run a little bit colder as he unsheathed a dagger from somewhere in his hilt. as dread began to build up within him at a steadily rising rate, wilbur was left to watch and plead as quackity’s blade continuously cut through fundy’s flesh, although timidly at first. schlatt interjected with his words of wisdom and demands every so often, until after what was possibly hours of seemingly fruitless torture, schlatt snapped-<br/>
“fine. if fundy has nothing useful to say, big q, use this. shut him up.”<br/>
it confused wilbur, to no ends- he was the one talking, fundy was gagged what- what was going on?<br/>
wilbur didn’t see the items quackity got passed, but he could gauge by the tensing of his body and the slight drooping of his wings that it was horrible.<br/>
then, screaming and crying openly now- begging for it to just stop, wilbur watched in absolute horror as quackity used a piece of fishing line to sow fundy’s lips shut together, torturously slow and with agonisingly shaky hands.<br/>
as they were left, schlatt grabbed his hair roughly, pulling his head up to snarl in his ear:<br/>
“think about this. it’s on you. hopefully you’ll be happier to comply next time.” before ushering quackity out of the cell, closing the door, leaving the two in a painful, dark silence.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. intrusive, much? holy shit wait are you okay-</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>tubbo and dream have been talking for a good few hours now, and in quick succession to dream’s confession (from chapter 2), they get interrupted not once, but twice- each with varying degrees of... acceptance?<br/>i mean, can you accept the fact that your nation’s right-hand man is coercing with the enemy when you’re <br/>a) breathless half to death from running for 40 minutes straight, trying to loose a tail and target from your back<br/>and<br/>b) freaking the fuck out because holy shit what just happened-</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hehe cliffhanger go brrr</p><p>l’manburg still spelt incorrectly here i apologise</p><p>anyways, trust me the chapters only get longer from here<br/>we finally get some ✨action ✨next chapter so take some climactic build-up :)</p><p>also ik a lot more characters are tagged rn than ones that have actually appeared, i promise we’ll get to them soon okAy-</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—🌊—</p><p>a whirlwind of thoughts plagued his mind- what? him? dream- the leader of a rival nation... was the boy named freckles? on the grave no one but wilbur visited? the one he spent.. hours crying over..? wh- what?<br/>through the confusion and sudden crash of the realisation, tubbo had failed to noticed the presence of a third person in their little clearing, an intrusive presence in the space that only ever seemed to house two. when he did, he only glanced at it in a confused manner at first, before yelping in surprise as recognition dawned on him, a blossoming panic seizing his chest-<br/>“tubbo, what is it? what’s-“<br/>dream twisted his neck to follow his gaze, fast enough to give himself a crimp, cutting himself short as he, too, spotted the other person. dream’s body rolled slightly so he was facing them directly, and he could sense the protectiveness in dream’s mannerism in the very back of his mind, even with with dream’s back facing towards him.<br/>tubbo could only stop and stare up at the person who had stumbled upon them. <br/>“dream, what the hell are you doing? get away from him- he’s the enemy!” they hissed hissed harshly, and tubbo was fully prepared for sapnap to take out a bow-and-arrow to shoot him and do the deed himself. after that, he processed dream’s reply through his rapidly growing haze of fear.<br/>“sapnap, let me explain. there’s more to this than you think you know-“<br/>“know what?” a third voice asked, in a much less angry tone. it was a somewhat higher pitch, though affirmatively male. there was an air of innocence to it and tubbo could just about place a name to the voice after a few seconds of thinking, somehow managing to process sapnap’s biting words:<br/>“why dream is ‘hanging out’ with the right hand man of l’manberg? whats there not to see, you filthy traitor?”<br/>sapnap’s voice held an almost animalistic growl, making tubbo’s breath hitch in his throat. surely dream wouldn’t let them hurt him, right?<br/>“right hand- you mean tubbo?” bad repeated, tone slightly confused, getting a stiff nod from sapnap. bad let out an almost amused snort at that, before declaring-<br/>“look sap, this must be where dream’s been ‘disappearing’ to the past 2 weeks! if he was a traitor, we’d be dead by now!” his tone was slightly too positive for his comfort, talking about being murdered and all, but tubbo only assumed it was a side-effect of his ‘innocence’ (they were at war, how innocent could you truly be?). besides, his words seemed to quell sapnap’s anger, if only ever so slightly, listening now with (he was hoping) a more open mind to dream’s defence.<br/>“tubbo and i are friends, sap. that’s it. he’s like a little brother to me, it’s just our luck that we’re on different sides of this war.”<br/>dream’s tone was slightly resentful, and tubbo could only echo the feeling in his own chest- why’d they have to be fighting eachother? the words seemed to reassure sapnap enough to where his body relaxed, and a more neutral look grew on his face. bad, on the other hand, was positively beaming:<br/>“can we keep him, dream?”</p><p>he only just managed to choke out a shocked “ w-what?!” before sapnap burst into a fit of laughter, and dream started his (iconic, by now) tea-kettle wheezing. bad, on the other hand, had an almost childlike pout on his face, exclaiming:<br/>“hey! i was being serious!” before turning back to dream with an ever hopeful expression, “can we?”<br/>dream’s only reply was another wheeze, which seemed to shut bad up, although with a child-like, disgruntled, ‘hmpf’.<br/>before tubbo could really get his bearings on the situation, he became aware of heavy breathing and thundering footsteps fast approaching, this time from l’mamberg’s side.<br/>“why do people keep on-“ dream had started, an irritation undermining his voice, before, to his complete and utter surprise (for the second time that day, like, damn) niki burst into the clearing, hair in a messy plait and eyes wide- shimmering with fear and unshed tears. although he could see from the corner of his eyes how dream, sapnap, hell- even bad, tensed at the sight of the older l’manbergian. tubbo though, tubbo shot to his feet and scrambled over to her, eyes wide with concern-<br/>“wait, niki- what’s wrong? wh- what happed?” he asked, his voice almost jumping an octave as the two made eye contact. it was in that moment that he could see the deep-seeded distress and fear dancing in the depths of her eyes.<br/>floods of guilt washed through him unceremoniously, ‘what happened when i was gone? is someone hurt? if i’d have stayed, i could have been able to stop it, oh gods what-‘<br/>“oh- tu-tubbo, it- it’s... tubbo you can’t go back, he- he’s looking for us. h-he’s looking for me!” she gasped, voice trembling. tubbo noticed how all 3 fantasian men had came forward slightly, in varying stages of confusion (dream), mistrust (sapnap) and concern (bad).<br/>he, however, could only allow as fear and worry heightened his senses, suddenly too aware of the light wind and swaying leaves that accompanied the heavy breathing of his comrade, on the moments of heavy quiet that followed.<br/>tubbo swallowed, trying desperately to make sense of his friend, and to fill the noiseless void-<br/>“niki- niki, i- i’m gonna need you to be- just, just a little bit more specific, alright? i- that’s not a lot to work with!” he tried to clarify, watching intently as niki caught back her breath slightly.<br/>“tubbo- you, you’re so lucky. you- you missed it! he rounded everyone up, they- i, i don’t know where he put them all! i could hear their screams from all the way in the bakery tubbo, please: you can’t go back there, please- i , i don’t want them to get you too-“<br/>“woah woah woah, niki- niki slow down! you could- screams, who- who is it? is- is wilbur doing this? why- why would-“ he interrupted her rambling, but niki’s eyes shot impossibly wider when he mentioned wilbur:<br/>“heavens no! wilbur- he, he was begging him to stop, i - i could hear his screams from the bakery.” <br/>niki finally managed to get a finished, coherent thought out to him, but it only served to make his blood run cold as the meaning of the words sunk in.<br/>“screaming? why- who, whose doing this?” his focus was entirely absorbed by niki’s frame, trembling a little too violently for his liking, like a brown leaf in a harsh winter wind. her reply only served to deepen his confusion, though by the aghast reactions of the fantasians behind him, it only served to deepen the grim feeling he had growing in his gut-<br/>“i- its schlatt.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. see the evil, hear the evil, and have a really hard time recounting the evil to your worried friends.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>save-the-citizens mode is insta-activated for dream, bad and sap so they decide to do stuff and hopefully not let people get murdered</p><p>of course it wasn’t easy, because when was anything related to schlatt easy?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>remember when i said the chapters would get longer?</p><p>i wasn’t kidding</p><p>i’m not evil i swear there is fluff coming up i promise<br/>you just gotta get through the first rough phase before you get the comfort :)</p><p>also if i haven’t made this clear, these are the characters the creators play as and not the creators themselves, which is why i feel more comfortable (i don’t think that’s the right word but eh i’m tired) shipping some of them</p><p>also hella ooc i forgot to mention <br/>i tried to stay somewhat true to their  characters but a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do to fulfil her writing dreams so-</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—🌊— </p><p>after snapping out of the shock of the moment, dream immediately turned to sapnap, whispering in a harsh, clipped tone-<br/>“we need to get them out of there, god knows what that psycho-“<br/>“slow down dream!” sapnap hissed, interrupting his train of thought. in the corner of his eye, he could see bad and tubbo try to comfort niki, apparently effectively because the girl was in sufficiently less volumes of hysteria.<br/>“i agree. we do need to get them out, but alone? just the 5 of us? we need reinforcements.”  sapnap’s tone revealed his concern, despite the harsh edge he tried to covered it with. dream knew sapnap like the back of his hand, and immediately started formulating a plan that would satiate the both of them. <br/>“okay- you, you run back for reinforcements- anyone: george, skeppy, anyone you can find. bring niki back with you and keep her in my house. lock her in a room if you have too, we can’t let her back like that. not in that state,” he could see sapnap preparing to butt in, but dream fluidly spoke over his opening jaw with a pre-meditated compromise:<br/>“take tubbo, too. schlatt will be after wilbur’s men, not us. i trust tubbo as much as i trust you, sap. they’ll be fine. i’ll take bad with me to scout out what’s happening. if we find anyone that we can extract, we will. bad can help with any injuries we may encounter, i’ll be able to fight off.. enough of them to buy us some time to escape. use the walkie-talkie to tell me when you get there with backup, alright?”<br/>sapnap seemed to study his features (well, his body language, actually- as well as the tone of his voice.) before nodding, turning to niki, bad and tubbo.<br/>“tubbo, niki- i’m taking you back to fantasia. you’ll be guests in dream’s house, i’ll drop you off. we need to be quick though, dream and bad are going to get as many people out of l’manberg as possible.”<br/>tubbo immediately started spluttering his protests, but a sharp look from sapnap, a brief glance to niki, a reassuring pat on the shoulder from bad and a conformational nod from himself got the boy up on his feet, following sapnap’s brisk pace towards fantasia with niki closely in tow. bad turned to him , worry etched into his features, tail flicking nervously. dream nodded, before the two began to jog towards l’manberg’s walls.</p><p>when the pair reached l’manberg, they certainly weren’t expecting to immediately hear the distant, muffled screams of someone in pain, and someone else begging for something to be done. or, not done, he thought grimly. he could feel bad’s gaze flicker from him to the city, though the two didn’t speak a word. they snuck in with relative ease, hiding behind a building, trying to inch their way closer to where the cries were coming from without being seen.<br/>it took them both a few minutes to realise that there was no one out in the streets, like there would be in fantasia. it was an odd feeling, seeing the empty streets but hearing the hollers of pain and grief, dream felt unsettled when he decided he couldn’t blame them. it made his blood run just a little colder. <br/>they were certainly more careless after that, but it didn’t seem to matter. dream managed to pinpoint the building where the screams were coming from- an grim, black nether brick building with bars instead of glass windows. it had numerous entrances, but he was having a hard time deciphering which was the front, the back, the side exits-(you get the gist).</p><p>at this much, much closer proximity, bad and dream managed to find the window which looked in on where  the screaming and crying was originating from, as well as the much quieter, grim voice of the tyrant himself. it was with dread that dream put a name to the voices- fundy; sounding as though in agonising pain but also muffled at the same time, and wilbur; sobbing and begging with a hoarse voice for the torture to stop. <br/>dream didn’t have the courage to look, and quickly pulled bad back when he had taken a peek, in fear of either of them being caught. <br/>but the look on bad’s face when they made eye contact made his heart plummet to the bottom of his chest.<br/>it was a blend of disgust, fear and panic- the likes of which he’d never seen matched before, especially  on the usually chipper boy’s face. he could faintly hear him whisper in a broken, trembling voice,<br/>“d-dream oh my goodness-“,<br/>before he felt his back pocket vibrate, and he immediately scrambled away from the barred windows, bad dazed but following his tracks, to where they would go safely unheard by all those in the cell.<br/>“dream. this is sap, enforcements are here. location? over.”<br/>dream inhaled a breath of chilly air, feeling as though he had been holding his breath for far too long, a grateful and relieved tone coating his voice,<br/>“thank god, sap. it’s really bad. who did you get? where are you? over.”<br/>he hissed back, waiting with baited breath for the static reply.<br/>“purpled, skeppy, sam, karl and george. we’ve just infiltrated the south wall- where are you? over.”<br/>came the anticipated voice through the crackly radio. dream’s voice was clearly restrained, poorly attempting to sound neutral through his growing anger and fear:<br/>“we’re at the building made of nether bricks, south-east. get your asses over here right now! over.” he clipped the device on to his leather straps almost immediately after he received an ‘affirmative, over.’ from sapnap.<br/>his gaze drifted to bad once more, who was staring at his mask with wide, afraid eyes. <br/>“what did you see, bad?” he whispered, getting closer to the younger man. bad looked up at him, and dream could see though the eyeholes of his mask that bad was trembling ever so slightly.<br/>“d-dream, it- wilbur was tied up, o- on the floor... he looked mainly uninjured, but- oh, dream,” bad exhaled, physically wincing at how broken his voice sounded, noticing the tears forming in bad’s brown eyes, “fundy...” dream waited with baited breath as bad struggled though his emotions to tell him what he had seen. dream took notice of the reinforcements that had managed to arrive at their location in silence, but he raised his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture once they had gathered around, too captivated by bad’s recollection of what he had seen to discuss the plan he had formulating in his head at the moment.<br/>“his shoulder was completely torn, his- his entire left side of his face was... purple...” dream waited still as bad inhaled once more, shuddering as he recounted what he had observed from just a brief few heartbeats of sight, and no matter- no matter how much he tried to prepare himself for whatever gruesomeness was certain to follow, nothing could prepare him for what bad dropped next-<br/>“his mouth was sown shut...”.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. prisoners to your own home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>our friends the dream team decided to step in and things go according to plan? there’s a plan? i thought it was just barge in and snatch the people you liked 😒</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>now might be a good time to mention that the characters aren’t the same age as in cannon or with the same relationships</p><p>i’ll explain them more later when they’re important but i thought i’d point it out</p><p>um<br/>fundy isn’t wilbur’s son, they’re both like 21</p><p>also not a morning chapter, what?<br/>couldn’t be me 💃</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—🌊—</p><p>it felt as though he had tried to swallow a desert: the back of his throat raw and burning, though his mouth felt uncomfortably moist, due to the overworking of his salivary glands as he begged for quackity to fucking stop this madness-<br/>
“look, will, this has been fun but: i say we move on. shake things up a little.” he could hear the venom in his voice, coming across as false cooing, mocking him as he literally spoke down to him.<br/>
“bring in the blonde one.”<br/>
at those words, wilbur’s mind raced to figure out who he meant, still processing what the hell schlatt just had done to fundy, before feeling his stomach lurch as he tried to lean forwards, to cry out at quackity-<br/>
“no, no, no no no- quackity no, please not- not tommy no- NO!” letting go of his dignity, he  begged the other teenager not to drag tommy into it, feeling the raw skin at the back of his neck rubbing against the metal of the chains, but he didn’t care.<br/>
‘not tommy, please not tommy- he’s- tommy, tommy, tommy-’<br/>
his brain couldn’t even finish a cohesive thought as he watched quackity untie fundy, and practically carry him to another cell. when he came back minutes later, he held a young blonde in his grip this time.<br/>
he was awake, walking and mainly unharmed but...<br/>
oh. oh shit...<br/>
he seemed so deflated. defeated. finished. his eyes had a hollow look to them and it broke his heart al over again to see just how much his foolishness and idiocy wrecked those around him. a vile guilt rose up in his throat, making him want to vomit. ‘i did this. to us. to them.’ a bile seemed to build up in his throat, making it even harder to swallow, to breath-<br/>
“let’s see how much blondie over here can take it before you give in, hm? take it away, q.”<br/>
schlatt’s voice was dripping with venom and sadistic joy once again, but, before a trembling quackity could start his path of destruction on the poor boy’s body, wilbur already crying in sobs of protests and pleas to just fucking stop, the wall that was home to the barred window was suddenly lurched inwards as a tremendous bang erupted from outside of the wall. schlatt took the brunt of the hit, crumpling under the weight of numerous falling pieces of now debris, but a stray brick still managed to hit him almost square in the temple as it flew by, tommy protected surprisingly by quackity, who covered both himself and the smaller boy with his white and buttery-yellow, feathered wings. everything was blurry, the scene processing in slow motion as his ears were filled with an obnoxious, incessant, high-pitched ringing that somehow managed to tone everything else out. he saw 3 blurry figures pass him, headed out where he had last seen quackity leave - maybe - before re-emerging with fundy.<br/>
briefly, the thought of the boy flooded his mind and incomprehensible shame and guilt flooded through him, making the air hard to breath in and making him cough violently, sending shudders through his body.<br/>
he was conscious of another 3 convening where quackity and tommy had fallen. then, his gaze managing to focus more on the person... man, he assumed, who got closer to him- small details etching themselves into his mind.<br/>
green hoodie. white face. no, white... mask? black sweatpants.<br/>
another person (that he had honestly no clue how they got there) handed the man infront of him something, and before he knew it, the collar that had chained him down so uncomfortably, preventing his movement, had slipped off, the thunk of it hitting the floor finally registering in his ears, making way for fuzzy mumbles and noises to be picked up by his ears. it was like being underwater, when the person talking to you wasn’t.<br/>
vaugely, maybe he heard somehthing with some semblanceb to his name, but he couldn’t be sure if anything at this point. all he could really process was that so much of him just hurt.<br/>
his throat, his wrists(which somehow had their bonds removed, somewhere down the line), his throat, his head, his legs, his back, his chest, his heart-<br/>
“breath for me wil, this’ll hurt for a sec, okay?”<br/>
the voice sounded closer, clearer, yet still had a faint echo to it. he found the strength to look up, watching the green-hooded man take something from his harness-like accessory, not even processing the fact that it was a sedative.</p><p>in that moment, all he could focus on was the clarity of the face. the glittering green eyes, pale skin and familiar freckles dotted along his face. he let out a small whisper, so unlike him, breathing out the only name that filled his head in the moment, entirely forgetting everyone and everything else.<br/>
the voice was broken, almost a whimper. you’d never think it was boisterous general of l’manberg talking.<br/>
“freckles..?”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. home away from home, but always in my heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>how’re things looking for the tubster and niki? let’s see...<br/>not well. like, at all.<br/>seriously they all need to invest in some SERIOUS therapy like i’m not kidding-</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>that’s right y’all get another chapter<br/>i’m in a hella good mood so there :)</p><p>tw// for blood/gore/description of injury </p><p>few more things to note:<br/>- fluff coming soon i promise okie<br/>- ive scuffed the ‘family relationships’ so i’ll explain them when all is revealed for clarification <br/>- i’m purposely neglecting letting the characters dwell on their feelings aight none of them seem like the types of people to deal with trauma upfront and right away<br/>- our fav. man will come soon, dw i love writing anarchists he’ll be there<br/>- and again everyone’s p ooc, i’ve messed around with everyone’s vibes to fit what i want mkay <br/>- tubbo and tommy fluff coming soon but not rlly i’m writing it rn :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—🌊—</p><p>it was quite a spacey room, tubbo wasn’t exactly sure where the kitchen ended and the more relaxed area of the living room started, though, since they both shared the same four walls. in his need to distract himself, tubbo had already absorbed most of the details of the large room they were confined in, before he started talking with niki.<br/>stone floor, marble countertop, birch wood table, numerous windows, pale green painted walls, painting of waterfalls and lavish landscapes- (you get the point).<br/>“how long do you think it’ll take?”<br/>he fiddled with his hands, feeling uncomfortable in the new scene. he wasn’t used to the view of fantasia out the window, not l’manberg, or the different musk of the home. <br/>“i don’t know. not too long, i hope?” niki replied, a nervous undertone to her voice. tubbo looked at her, glad she wasn’t as scared as before. he couldn’t help but think, though, that there was something else on her mind.<br/>“you- uh, what- what’s on your mind? you look kinda, uh, lost?”<br/>he asked, flashing a brief smile in her direction.<br/>apparantly that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, because niki shot up from where she was sat, and instantly picked up some sort of mobile device, akin to a walkie talkie in appearance, but with a small keyboard instead of buttons and dials. <br/>“n-niki what- what’re, what’re you doing niki?”<br/>he pressed, nervousness once again seeping through the cracks of his mind, dripping his voice.<br/>a few heartbeats of silence later, tubbo finally allowed himself to breath as niki put the device on the table. tubbo noticed, however, that the device now had a steady, red flashing light.<br/>“niki what the hell did you do?”<br/>niki looked at him, something cold yet desperately warm at the same time flooding her eyes:<br/>“backup.”</p><p>niki was being cryptic and didn’t expand on her point once. she didn’t even speak. well, he hadn’t either, but that wasn’t the point.<br/>it was an uncomfortable.. god knows how long of silence, nervously eying the walls, gaze tracing and inspecting every aspect of the room. they were too nervous to explore: afraid of being yelled at or thrown out for overstepping their stay, but also wanting to be as close as possible to the front door.<br/>tubbo was starting to grow impatient, so he stood up, walked from the kitchen area to the door, and peeked out the window that was right beside it.<br/>his timing could not have been better.<br/>there was a significantly large group of people headed their way- one carrying a very beaten-looking, very much not awake ginger (whom tubbo immediately identified as fundy), 2 trailing, 3 more people spread out behind them with a smaller fourth that he instantly recognised as his best friend, then another two walking side-by sides, the limp body of someone else who he couldn’t quite see in his arms.<br/>there was 10 of them in total.<br/>he opened the door, backing to the side and niki approached him to stand at his side, karl (who was carrying fundy) rushing in, placing the unconscious man on the couch. tubbo couldn’t bring himself to look, the brief glance he snatched making him feel sick to his stomach. bad rushed in after karl, giving nervous yet stern order to the younger to get equipment from the bathroom. purpled appeared at bad’s side, but he was also sent off to collect some potions. skeppy and sam stood awkwardly at the door, unsure of how to help. sapnap used a hand on tommy’s shoulder to guide him to the table, sitting him down and talking to him in a low voice. <br/>then, dream came in, holding the entirely too limp body of their general in his arms.<br/>fundy had tossed and whined in pain, weak sobs wracking his body, but wilbur was entirely still and quiet. from what he could see, his wrists were bloodied and red, a harsh rash-looking, raw line of skin in a ring shape around his throat. his shirt was in a generally dirtied and bloodied state, but he had a small stream of blood dribbling from the edge of his hairline down his face, which was cause for quite a bit of his concern. attention snapping again, he watched as niki sped walked over to bad, declaring she could help. bad accepted her help when she took the first aid kit from karl and instantly took out the things they needed.<br/>he hadn’t a clue what they were. his eyes drifted to the red-beeping... backup device? it was on the counter, but when he checked it briefly for clues, nothing came of it. all he saw was a tusked, pig- like image of someone with a braid engraved on its back, seemingly faded with time, so he could only assume it meant something.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. i know the nights are cold but you’re safe now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>mmmm<br/>long-time coming comfort mmm yes</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warning for very ooc okAy<br/>when i said chapters would get longer it’s  ones like this that i’m talking about hA</p><p>also when i said there’d be fluff eventually i meant it lmao i’m not that heartless<br/>that being said enjoy roughly 2.1k-ish characters of  soft wilbur/dream comfort.</p><p>posting again bc i do whatever i want it’s a friday my mail came im in such a good mood just let me have this okay?</p><p>next chapter is also fluff hrr<br/>it’s not entirely healthy but it’s cute none the less i actually has a blast when i wrote this a while back so</p><p>¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p><p>also bc i know my friend gets notifs when i post don’t you dare come @ me let me have my fun okay?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—🌊—</p><p>it had taken a while for things to calm down, karl, niki and bad all herding people out of the kitchen, and getting sam and skeppy to force everyone to their rooms to sleep. it had gotten dark shockingly quickly and dream agreed that everyone would need a good night’s rest if they were to talk, plan, and process everything the next day. fundy was on the couch in the kitchen, tubbo and tommy were dead set on staying together, so dream got purpled to escort them to a spare room that they could share for the time being. an almost guilty thought was pushed to the back of his mind as he recalled redecorating it personally, fit to match tubbo’s tastes. he’d wanted the younger to stay over, for a sleepover of sorts.<br/>this wasn’t how he had intended on it happening.<br/>still holding a lanky and limp wilbur in his arms, he walked upstairs to his own master bedroom, gently placing wilbur down on his bed as he turned back around to lock his bedroom door. he decided that, before he fell asleep himself, he’d check wilbur’s wounds to make sure there wasn’t anything too serious, and to assure he wasn’t in too much discomfort from the pain when he inevitably woke up.<br/>he had grabbed the first aid kit, some gauzes and a bowl of water with a sponge, before he saw wilbur begin to stir.<br/>he wasn’t expecting it to happen so quickly.<br/>dream watched in silence as wilbur’s soft, hazel eyes fluttered open, letting out a small groan as his hands reached to cover his eyes. seeing this, dream silently stalked to the light switch, turning the leds down slightly as to not hurt the other’s eyes too much, without impairing his ability to see too much either.<br/>“wilbur?” he called softly, sitting down on the bed, a small distance away from him. wilbur was trying to sit up, and he decided to let him, for now, not wanting an argument as a first thing. he could see by the hunching of wilbur’s back and the way his arms moved like it took way to much effort, that wilbur was exhausted, despite being knocked out for a good 3 hours. <br/>“d-dream..?” his raspy reply scratched his ears, making his heart ache. he sounded so lost, sad, confused. nothing like the confident, kind, loyal and somewhat boisterous kid from his childhood.<br/>dream still cared, though. he always would. <br/>“yeah, it’s me. how are you feeling, wil?” he pressed, shuffling ever so slightly closer to the younger. <br/>“wh- where... why... how...” the beginnings of numerous questions began to form on his tongue, but dream quietened him gently by dipping the sponge in the lukewarm water, before gently wiping the side off his neck. he gave an obvious, violent flinch as he sponge’s material brushed over his raw patch of skin. despite the that, he didn’t peel away, instead letting dream clean the skin of any dried and crusted blood. <br/>once he had done that, he reached for an anti-infection, soothing cream which he allowed himself to apply generously to his childhood (cough)friend. he could tell that by with passing second, wilbur’s guard got lowered and lowered and lowered, relaxing into his touch. <br/>once he had finished with the cream, he reached back for the sponge and began gently wiping at the blood that was dribbling down the side of his face, from a cut on his temple, nearer to his ear. dream focused on what he was doing with his hands and on wilbur’s breathing, knowing when to slow down or use less pressure from the intakes of breath the other took. he applied a similar cream to that wound, before getting up and sitting down again, this time to wilbur’s right, closer to the nightstand where he had dumped the firstaid kit and the gauzes. then, slowly, he pulled up wilbur’s right sleeve, immediately appalled by the abysmal state.<br/>his wrists were raw like his neck, but the rope left an imprint of its pattern in his skin, dream being able to see where it had cut in entirely, leaving disgusting imprints in his flesh. he could also see the rope-burn blisters on the bones of his wrist, so he stared to work as quickly as possible.</p><p>the process was long, but he managed to finish disinfecting and thoroughly bandaging both his wrists, so they were both left, in silence, sat on his bed.</p><p>rising to his feet again, he quietly assured the other:<br/>“i’m going to get you something to change into, okay?”<br/>despite how cozy the other’s ripped jeans and button-up shirt may have been at one point, they looked stiff and uncomfortable now at best. he quickly and silently walked to his wardrobe, picking something he thought would at least fit wilbur, with the bonus of being comfortable. he ended up grabbing a muted, orangish yellow crewneck and some black shorts made out of a rather nice sweatshirt material. he quickly left them by wilbur’s side, murmuring again how he would go get himself changed out of his far too heavy clothes, before standing up to go and do so.<br/>he got himself another iconically green hoodie, made out of a softer, thinner material than the thick one he was currently wearing now. he also got some thin, grey sweatpants to seal the deal before heading into his bathroom to get changed. he did so at a significantly slow pace, not wanting to walk in on wilbur changing. he had heard some shuffling, so he assumed that’s what the other was doing. pausing for a minute or two to look at his face in the mirror. <br/>snapping out of the trance, he left the bathroom after putting his clothes into the laundry basket, reminding himself to bring them down to the washing machines tomorrow. wilbur had changed, thankfully, but the crewneck was just a little bit too big, sitting slightly baggy on his frame. he managed to put wilbur’s discarded clothes into the laundry basket as well, before sitting down next to him, about to address him.<br/>before dream could force something out, wilbur spoke:<br/>“why didn’t you do anything?” <br/>dream knew exactly what he meant, and couldn’t find it within himself to lie about it, so he talked. there wasn’t any dodging the question.<br/>he spent a good long while explaining how he was told that wilbur had died, how he had missed him all the time. every day, every second. he moulded himself around the wants and needs of his people, acting as their strong face. when wilbur first started l’manberg, he would tell himself it ‘wasn’t his wilbur’ but deep down, he knew. not even deep down, really. they had practically faced eachother on the battlefield, but dream wanted to be a good leader. he wanted to be strong for them, so he fought. </p><p>dream got anxious when the younger sat in silence for a little longer than he was comfortable with. despite his experience, dream couldn’t read the other man.<br/>wilbur’s eyes were fixated on him- not meeting his gaze, more so looking at his shoulder, or the bunched up fabric of his hoodie. <br/>he opened his mouth to speak again, to justify himself, but all he could get out was a “wil-“ before wilbur spoke himself, his voice small and low as he hummed-<br/>“ ‘my wilbur?’ “<br/>he had quoted a seemingly insignificant prt of what he had said earlier, eyes finally moving to lay on his face. dream saw the flurry of emotions that danced in the other’s eyes: grief, fear, weariness- but more prominently hope, a flare of his childhood innocence, longing.<br/>he couldn’t help but let his face melt into a soft smile, repeating in a warm voice:<br/>“my wilbur.”<br/>their eyes stayed locked together for a little while, drinking in the presence of the other.<br/>after so, so long. finally, finally they were back together again. as they always should have been.<br/>the longer dream stared, the longer dream longed that he could spend the rest of his life never letting the other out of his sight, wanting to make up for the years of being apart and fighting. he decided, though, that this was unreasonable, and instead broke off the eye contact to turn the light off instead. he saw the flashing fear and abandonment in wilbur’s eyes as he stood up, but he was more so focused now on the exhausted painting of his face. the bags beneath wilbur’s eyes almost looked like they had been made with makeup, but dream knew, sadly, that they were all too real.<br/>he decided to try and help that.<br/>in the darkness, the room still illuminated by the moon out the window, dream walked over, and gently (yet still firmly) picked up the now tense wilbur, one arm beneath the bend of his legs, the other protectively around his back, holding him close to his chest. he could feel the internal conflict of the other’s mind as he struggles between melting into his embrace and the fear of such an unpredicted situation.<br/>he placed wilbur back on his bed, but this time in the middle of it, so that he could sit next to him. he had laid wilbur down gently, so his head rested nicely on his many pillows. without any hesitation, he sat down next to him, watching carefully as wilbur kept his tired eyes on him, seemingly not having enough energy to sit himself back up, he was just simply not bothered to. <br/>lifting the blanket that was folded at the end of his bed, he pulled it up so it was just covering their lower legs. despite the weather, his house had active air conditioning that worked rather too well at some times, so he figured the sheets wouldn’t be a necessity through the thick of their clothes. (the blankets were just in case their legs got cold, though.)<br/>after laying on his bed, dream turned to face the tiring wilbur, before he reached out an arm to place on wilbur’s back, before pulling the other towards him, hugging him with the single arm. he felt wilbur’s hands reflexively reach out to grasp at his chest, as if to push him away, but after feeling them gently hover on his chest, a warm smile flooded his features when no such force was exerted. snaking the arm from wilbur’s back, he let his hand drift to the base of  his neck, pulling him in just a little bit more. wilbur allowed himself to be moved willingly, and he could hear the breaths flushed with a comforted euphoria against his chest as he ran his finger through the back of his hair, remembering how wilbur used to enjoy it when they were younger.<br/>“is this okay?” he asked gently, yet his voice was somewhat raspy and low. he gave a relaxed sigh as wilbur responded with a content, half-asleep ‘mhmm’, cuddling up closer to his body. </p><p>dream watched as wilbur’s breaths got less and less eratic, until they were fully calmed, finding a relaxation as they got deeper and deeper as wilbur drifted to sleep. after only up to 15 minutes (wilbur had been exhausted), dream allowed himself to begin to drift off, thoughts filled with the joy and relief of having wilbur back in his arms. he could feel his grip instinctively tighten (not uncomfortably so) around the other, before his eyes grew heavy and shut of the own accord, a calm, blissful sleep washing over him.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. breakfast with a side of banter and missing persons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>wakey wakey!<br/>karl’s cooking breakfast, and the kids are being kids again!<br/>too bad the adults have another issue to deal with, goddamit-</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hehe posting goes brrr</p><p>i wanna speed this up to get to the good bits don’t worry we gettin there</p><p>yes i can count </p><p>again don’t @ me for updating this like a 3rd time today motivation is amazing wheeze<br/>expect like another chapter from home at like, 2 am💀</p><p>now have fun </p><p>also the number of typos in this chapter oml i’m so glad i proof-read it<br/>you could really tell it was written at 1am 💃</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—🌊—</p><p>the fear was almost second-hand, making a home in his mind after the confusion ebbed away.<br/>he had woken up, feeling warm and relaxed, somewhat energised from (what he could recall) an unproblematic night of sleep. the panic set in once he realised he did, in fact, not recognise his surroundings, but mainly the fact that most of his vision was impaired by someone else sleeping next to him, holding him in a firm, yet also comfortingly gentle grip. there was a hand in his hair and he felt his own pressed up against the other’s chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of their chest acting like an anchor of some sort as he began to panic. <br/>his body slowly tensed up, but as he tried removing an arm from the other’s chest, he heard a displeased ‘hmm’ from them, before the hand on the back of his neck pulled their bodies even closer.<br/>the fact that the air of panic was so quelled was what seemed to be scaring him most. eyes still blurry with sleep, he couldn’t quite see his facial features (he’d taken the liberty to pin them as a male).<br/>he didn’t know how long it took, but the other must have woken up and realised he was freaking out, because when he spoke, everything all suddenly came flooding back to him.<br/>“ ‘morning, wil.”<br/>his breath hitched, a flood of relief and joy coursing through his body, before panic and fear trampled them into the corner of his mind, remembering the atrocities of the previous day.<br/>god, it had felt like days.<br/>“calm down, wil. you’re safe here.” dream cooed, and despite wanting to curl up in the comfort of the older’s touch, he couldn’t. his squirming guilt and fear was etched into his mind. what about the citiz- his citizens, his friends? how many had they managed to get out? where were niki, tubbo, fundy, eret, his dad-?<br/>“b-but the others-“</p><p>his silent prayer seemed to be answered, because before he really knew what was happening, he had some proper trousers on (black sweatpants, actually) and dream had gotten himself changed (grey sweatpants and another iconic green hoodie). he had apparently decided the crewneck was fine for now (definitely didn’t just like how soft it was, how perfect it seemed for him, or how it smelled like dream-) so he kept it on as dream lead him downstairs.</p><p>what he was met with was not what he was expecting at all. not in the slightest, nope. it took a few seconds for him to properly process what he was seeing.<br/>he couldn’t help but let some of the tension from his shoulders ebb away, seeing so many familiar faces.<br/>bad and niki were talking to fundy, skeppy nearby but not actively participating in whatever their conversation was.<br/>karl was... cooking breakfast? purpled was talking to him, cutting up toast and putting more bread in the toaster, spreading some uncut slices with different jams laid out on the counter.<br/>sapnap was sipping coffee at the table, quietly talking with sam who had a half-eaten orange on a napkin, watching with an amused expression as tubbo and tommy exchanged ‘friendly’ banter (he knew it was friendly, but to an outsider it could have genuinely looked like they were going to murder eachother, if you subtracted all the rowdy laughter).</p><p>he sat down next to dream, only to be instantly met with insistent chatter from tommy:<br/>“wilbur! thank god, are you okay? i mean- i’m fine, thanks so much for asking, but are you?” <br/>he flinched ever so slightly, picking up on aggressive and irritated tone’s in the younger’s voice. instead of succumbing to his emotions, like he so badly wanted to do, wilbur put a cocky smirk on his face, smoothing his voice out as he replied,<br/>“doing worse now i have you chattering away. what did you and tubbs get up too? not sleeping, i hope.”<br/>he laces his voice with carefully-planned sarcasm, like he had so many times before. he could see the slight relief in tommy’s posture as their usual banter began to take place, but he was irritatingly aware of both tubbo and dream staring at him a little too intently.<br/>“fuck you, big w! i’ll have you know we actually got some sleep. we young ‘uns need our beauty sleep!”<br/>wilbur couldn’t help but allow the small smile to grow on his face, before he forced it off with a shit-eating grin, knowing an age joke would be expected of him right about how.<br/>“tommy, did you just admit to being a child?” he asked, feigning exasperation and shock. wilbur assured himself he was doing the right thing by this, as  tommy seemed to relax and thrive in the conversation, bantering for a little while longer before karl called to everyone present:<br/>“breakfast is served! everyone to the table!”<br/>then, a bowl of an alarmingly large amount of scrambled eggs, plates of toast with jams of all colours and flavours, a plate with greasy bacon, 2 high-stacked plates of crepes (not those american pancakes) with various toppings, a box of life cereal (what the hell was that? a cereal called ‘life’?), a glass for everyone, and jugs of oj, milk, water and apple juice for all. it was an overwhelming amount of food, but seeing how there were.... what, 11 of them? 12 if he was counting himself. he watched silently as everyone gathered around, sitting at (the significantly more crowded now) the table and started digging in. at first, tubbo and fundy were somewhat hesitant, fundy being lectured about what we could and could not eat by bad and niki,  before giving in to the hunger and allowing themselves to take some of the food. tommy had given no hesitation, launching straight in to the meal. guilt began to weigh in at the back of his mind: it was much better than anything he could do. he was an excellent cook, mind you, just lacking the time or resources to cook properly. niki seemed as though this was not anything out of the ordinary, chatting pleasantly with bad and skeppy who were nearest to her. all the residents of fantasia had a fun time coercing with the l’manberg residents, but wilbur’s mind was racing far too quickly to be bothered with such a mundane task like eating. he’d gone days without eating before, now wouldn’t be any different.<br/>after moments of observation, a stingy and dark thought wormed its way into his mind, quickly forming a question on the tip of his tongue.<br/>he decided, though, that facing the gaping hole in the room would suffice. he turned to dream, who had some eggs, bacon, and a piece of toast with some form of red-coloured jam on it, to find him staring right back at him. he swallowed slightly nervously, a bile beginning to form in his throat.<br/>“where’s george..?” he asked cautiously, not knowing how to address the situation.<br/>he had observed that he had been missing, not a single fantasian looking as though they were going to go and fetch the man.<br/>he may still have been asleep, for all he knew. dream’s expression immediately darkened, and he broke the eye contact, looking away.<br/>he felt his heart plummet. <br/>oh.<br/>oh no.<br/>had something happened? had the fantasian warrior sacrificed himself for the pathetic excuse of a country that l’manberg was?<br/>shit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. a son’s sacrifice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>please don’t hurt the only father figure anyone ever in this story has<br/>please</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>haha new chapter wow it’s 1am again doesnt this feel familiar?</p><p>scratch any and all claims of innocence i tried to grasp before i am v much a sucker for angst<br/>so here<br/>have angst and cliffhanger bc yummy tension</p><p>may post another chapter if i get it proof-read by my sorry ass in time 💀</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—🌊—</p><p>the days were still somewhat of a blur.<br/>he couldn’t process, or even attempt to fathom the even that had lead to the inevitable outburst. things just kept on getting piled on and piled on, and at some point, it looked like wilbur fucking lost it as he flat-out left, getting on a horse and riding off.<br/>they had stayed only 6 nights in dream’s residence, those who already resided there being overwhelmingly kind, understanding and somewhat unbearably guilty.<br/>tubbo wasn’t sure to feel glad they were feeling the emotional ramifications of their actions, or if he was willing to forgive them.<br/>the answer was made clear when the bomb was dropped, revealing that all the l’mambergians present on fantasia as of the current moment (bar quackity and phil, wilbur’s father) were, in fact, the only residents. they’d include eret, but he’d deflected to fantasia not too long ago, though was still in the process of moving out. seeing the inflated guilt and immense shock on all their faces when tommy shared that information with them, the swelling pit of kindness and innocence within him reached out- allowing him to forgive his former enemies. maybe.</p><p>he and tommy had quickly taken flight as soon as they realised wilbur was gone, unfortunately knowing exactly where he must have run off to. tubbo couldn’t even begin to imagine the stress their general (former? they all lived under dream now, practically. tubbo couldn’t see them returning to l’manberg after this) was under, especially considering that the one remaining l’manbergian (who wasn’t coddled up with schlatt) was his father. there was also the bonus wild card of george. apparently, he’d flat-out ditched them on the rescue mission a week back staying with schlatt instead. tubbo could see through the reactions of the fantasians that it was a huge blow, a complete shock. sapnap looked as though he would simply throw his head to the table and never lift it back up again. the betrayal was raw, bitter, and tubbo could almost feel it sting him. the betrayal came more so from the fact that george, hell, anyone had sided with the psycho schlatt, not that he was initial friends with them.</p><p>the air whipped at his face, blood pounding through his body in time with his quick-paced, leaping footsteps as he and tommy ran their fastest to get to l’manberg. all they had was a bow (tommy’s) and an iron sword (his own) to arm them, but a deep loyalty within them pushed both under-armed teenagers to dash to their general’s aid.<br/>l’manberg’s walls looked to be getting larger and larger as they swiftly came up on their former city, their former residence. tubbo could barely hear the screaming over the sound of his own beating heart, but as they came to a slow, bursting still through the gates of the city, a heavy silence seemed to encase him as his focus was enraptured by the scene infront of them. will stood, still in his borrowed crewneck and sweatpants (dream seemed to grow a small collection of the muted yellow shirts, as they were a slightly different shade every day), with his own beanie on once more and his combat boots. tommy seemed to be stunned into silence beside him, as they watched with wide-eyes horror at the scene they had stumbled upon.</p><p>schlatt stood tall, george next to him, glowering. his eyes were concealed by the his iconic, blacked-out sunglasses. on the centre platform, a slightly raised stone slab in the middle of the town’s centre, was a new addition. there kneeled phil, arms bound behind his back, head hung in defeat. stood beside him was a sickly, pale-looking quackity, a diamond axe gripped too firmly in his hands. his beanie concealed what appeared to be unkempt hair, and you couldn’t even tell he had wings under the baggy, black hoodie he wore. in addition to that, his eyes seemed reddened and dead, black bags almost as dark as wilbur’s had been gracing his face. wilbur stood, muscles locked in tense fear, pleading with schlatt.<br/>“don’t make him do this, please schlatt, please-“<br/>“god, would you just shut up?! quack, just get it done with. we don’t have all day!” the new president snapped, and tubbo could feel the breath leave his body, as though he had been struck with a blunt object. his hand was gripped tightly enough to leave a bruise on tommy’s wrist, to ensure the other didn’t do anything rash.<br/>he also needed something to anchor himself, hoping beyond all wildest fantasies that this was just some sick, twisted nightmare.</p><p>tubbo watched, feeling like the seconds passed in minutes, the pounding of his leaping heart pumping in his ears. he watched as quackity looked down at phil, an unreadable emotion filling his dark eyes. a painful minute passed, before schlatt groaned:<br/>“my god, you’re such a pussy! george, go show ‘em how it’s done... stupid ass freak..”<br/>the last part was almost inaudible to tubbo, but he saw quackity jump all too viciously at the words. why did he seemed scared of the man he stayed to protect? george smirked, sauntering to quackity, grabbing the axe viciously from his arms and pushing him aside, letting the boy tumble down the platform, landing at schlatt’s feet.<br/>in a much swifter, stronger, and confident movement, george raised the axe above his head, and just as he was about to slam the axe down at full force, tubbo made sense of some of the panicked garble from wilbur-<br/>“no, no! take me- take me instead! just leave him alone, fuck, please-!”his voice seemed to crack in desperation, but the plea worked, because schlatt abruptly gave george a signal to stop,  grinning wildly.<br/>“brilliant! just brilliant! george, untie him.” he barked, watching with satisfaction as wilbur’s body seemed to shake with inaudible sobs. tubbo felt his world almost go still, like everything had just suddenly stopped completely. there was a haze clouding his mind, as all he processed from that point was incoherent screeching and phil’s release from his place on the podium, where he was formerly knelt to be executed. he felt phil’s embrace almost crush him, but by the time he moved aside, wilbur had now taken his place on the stand, hair in a vicious vice as george pulled at it, exposing his throat, which he had oh-so-kindly pressed a dagger against. the twisted smile on his face made him want to throw up, but that was nothing in comparison to the gag reflex he felt after seeing the sickened joy on schlatt’s face, as he grabbed quackity by the collar of his shirt and began shaking him around.</p><p>in the moments of ringing silence, coated thickly in the sound of muted screaming and crying, tubbo could only think in despair- how had this happened? and, was it all his fault? but of course it would be, wouldn’t it?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. in with a bang</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>now it’s everyone’s turn to freak out and rush back to l’manburg<br/>who is there to join them, though?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HAHA FINALLY<br/>THE CHAPTER<br/>THIS CHAPTER TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE  YOU DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND</p><p>this chapt. isn’t proof read i don’t have that patience lmao</p><p>finally you get to meet the mystery people,, if you can guess 3/4 (because one is an oc) i will instantly love you <br/>please<br/>i’ll add their character tags next in the next few chapters when their names are revealed<br/>i’ll also clear up family ties when they’re revealed as well :)</p><p>not this chapter being 2.3k words 💃</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—🌊—</p><p>discussing plans with sapnap felt oddly empty without george’s air of fresh opinion and wisdom, which is why this draw-up was taking so long. they had to be mindful of the l’manburgians wishes as well as satiate their own- aka murdering the ever-loving shit outta schlatt, maybe even quackity and bonus- get george back. a gut feeling refused to believe he had turned, but dream knew denial was a symptom of betrayal, so he held those thoughts as only high-end wishes. </p><p>the two had come up with... a decent plan, if you pushed it, when a highly frantic and hysteric karl barged in on them-<br/>“karl, we’re busy can you leave us-“<br/>“wilbur ran off and tommy and tubbo followed him to l’manburg!” he snapped, raising his voice so that he spoke over sapnap. sapnap’s eyes flew wide open, as dream felt his blood turn cold, heart plummeting.<br/>“how do you know?” he asked, a grave tone in his voice. something about it’s deadly quiet must have been unnerving, because karl swallowed uneasily, hesitating only slightly.<br/>“i heard wil talking about leaving. i- don’t look at me like that! i thought he had some common sense not to go! when i went to check up on them, they were gone! tommy and tubbo included!” karl’s voice grew more and more exasperated with each passing moment, leading him to have, by the end of his proclamation, grabbed his diamond sword and sheathed it, before turning immediately to power walk out the living room, through the kitchen and outside. he wasn’t hearing a single word or reason from the numerous people who tried talking him down during his trek, saddling a horse and mounting it as swiftly as humanly possible. all he could hear was his own heart pounding, the feeling of anger and miserable fear gushing through him like an overflowing river. he wasn’t used to the swarm of emotions and feelings crushing his chest, making each breath harder and more painful than the last. by the time he really realised what he was doing, he was harshly urging his horse to go faster, already at a break-neck pace. even the fastest horse couldn’t seem to get him to l’manburg fast enough.<br/>to tubbo’s side.<br/>to wilbur.</p><p>vaguely aware of the sound of other horses behind him, dream focused his eyes on the rapidly approaching walls infront of him. hardly slowing down in time, he didn’t bother to tie up the horse, opting to simply leap off, hitting the floor with his shoulder first as he used the momentum to roll forwards (slickly, might he add) and spring to his feet once more, not stopping once until... <br/>until. </p><p>his body froze, eyes widening. the scene that was unfolding rapidly before him made his heart slow, muscles tense, jaw clench. <br/>a man he once saw as his closest ally, his best friend, holding the man he loved with all his heart to the point that is was practically painful, sharp, serrated edge of polished steel pressed harshly against his throat, a line of thin crimson already cut into his flesh. you could still see the bruises of the chains from his captor the previous time, though the prospect of a knife to wilbur’s throat concerned him much, much more. a tall man had the 2 teenagers in his arms, shielding their view of the attempted murder with large, tawny brown wings protecting them  like a blanket infront of him, holding them close to his body, in an attempt to stop them from throwing themselves at their highly outmatched opponents.</p><p>dream’s entire conscience screamed at him to move, to do something- to help- but logic and paralysing fear stopped him, wittering away in his head about how if he tried to intervene that george would slit wil’s throat twice as fast. incoherent and desperate yells cried out from behind him, the friends that had been chasing him having caught up by now to stumble upon the growing horror scene. </p><p>the fear that surged through him deadlocked his jaw shut, the only thing he was able to do being to lock eyes with wilbur to see the desperate fear running within their brown depths. he could hear the maniacal laughter of the new president, the psychotic man holding quackity by the collar with rough, uncaring hands, seemingly oblivious to the sputtering, coughing and wheezing of the man held in his grip. details seemed to jump out at him, but he couldn’t find it within himself to process them properly, as if they just automatically absorbed into his waking consciousness. the way that schlatt was standing tall and proud, a golden necklace encrusted with a single, almost glowing green gem. the flashing gold of the ringlets on the hybrid’s horns as they caught the sunlight when his body shook with violent laugher. the way that quackity’s eyes watered, seeming dull yet so full of fear and regret and pain. how his hands grasped at his throat, knees barely making contacting the floor as schlatt held him in an iron grip. how his wings appeared nowhere to be found on his back at all. the way george’s grin spoke volumes about his hunger for blood despite his covered eyes, how he could see them flash with anger and annoyance as one of wilbur’s desperate thrashes hit him hard in the chin, knocking the glasses clean off. the evil glint in his eyes as he pushed the blade harder against wilbur’s raw skin. the way wilbur’s panicked thrashing gave way to a more resonant, accepting whimper. how his eyes shut to let tears slip silently from his eyes and down his rosy cheeks, his arms going slightly slack as he began to give up on struggling.</p><p>a violent, ear-popping bang shook him suddenly from the trance, followed suit by a myriad of quieter, faster bangs. his eyes were immediately drawn  to the sparks of red and black that suddenly began to flash in the sky, processing as the small sparks went out that it had been a firework. eyes casting to the walls, he could see faintly, the outline of someone backed by the slowly setting sun, standing on the top of the l’manburg wall, opposite the entrance they had used to enter the hellish scene. eyes drawn downwards, he could see by the elongated shadow of the figure that they held a crossbow and had a long, single braid, drifting gently in the breeze. not only a heartbeat later was there rose petals beginning to drift towards them, following the wind in the direction, again, from the figure.<br/>a confusion sparked within him, as he was all too captivated by the mystery person to take advantage of schlatt and george’s lapse of attention to get wilbur back, clearly everyone else was too. <br/>the figure made no move to lunge, attack, or fire another shot, despite him noting how this person was obviously winged, owner of a pair of significantly large wings: some of the biggest he’d ever seen. in the shock of the silence, dream was barely able to process the movement before another unknown party leapt into the frame, this time directly engaging the offending parties as they practically dive-bombed from the top of the nearest building into george, catching him completely off guard, effectively shoving him to the floor. she hit him with... something, he couldn’t tell what it was, and he didn’t get back up. the figure - who dream could now tell was a girl - then turned to lunge at schlatt, knocking quackity out of his grip. the two had a violent tussle, his attention being briefly turned to george- concern for his best-friend overwhelming him in a sudden surge of panic. before he could make his was to his friend, an especially disgruntled roar from schlatt drew his attention, as he turned to see the girl rip the necklace from his body, drop it, then crush it violently underfoot. time seemed to pause, but only for a millisecond before the new president began lashing out once more at the girl, using his wizarding abilities to aid him, creating spontaneous flame and moving rocks to throw at her to try and stop her flurry of aggressive attacks. attention drawn once more to george, he could see him begin to cough violently, knees and hands firmly on the floor as a thick, black substance began to dribble from his mouth. concern crept up inside him as he dashed over to his friend, barely clocking that wilbur, who had been thrown to the floor as his captor was tackled, had done the exact same thing, placing a hand to george’s chest for reasons dream couldn’t even begin to fathom. before he could actually do something to help, another figure appeared - this one also coming equipped with a long braid, like the figure on the wall and the girl currently beating up schlatt’s sorry ass. due to her lack of sporadic attack movements or silhouetted frame, he could see that this woman was wearing a mask. it was a round, porcelain white one, much like his own, but instead this one had two rounded, triangular-shaped eyes akin to a carved pumpkin, cheeks shining with a faux, rosy blush. it’s left side looked like it was close to falling apart, cracked outwards from the blacked-out eyes of mask, covered poorly but somehow also delicately and beautifully in pink flowers and petals, as if they were growing from the cracks in the mask. the right eye lacked any cracks, but instead appeared to be painted as though crying streams of black tears, freakishly realistic. the person had bent down and quickly checked over george’s face, minding extra attention to the black substance george was coughing up violently. she reached into a pouch she had strapped to her waist which held various purple petals from an unidentifiable flower, tipping a few into her hand. he watched as she cupped them in her hand, the antennae that he only just realised she had on her head glowing a vibrant pink, opening her hand to reveal the whole flower, petals, leaves and all. crushing her hand into a fist, the flower seemed to instantaneously liquify in her palm, before she used her free hand to pull george into a sitting position, told his head back, then pour the herbal liquid into his mouth, almost letting him choke on the mixture. george didn’t, though, and his coughing soon died down into light wheezing, eyes wide as he stared at the new female beside them. </p><p>the healer had done all this in a matter of mere seconds, which allowed his eyes to turn back to the fight which was still taking place behind him. the brunette girl seemed lithe and agile, keeping a consistent pace of attacks and dodging as schlatt sent waves of roaring black flame her way. dream noticed subconsciously that the girl had a pair of outward-facing, furred ears as well as a tufted tail akin to that of a lion, with a muted red, rounded arrow-shaped tip at its end instead. this girl also had a mask on, though she was moving too quickly for him to really focus on its details: it was white, red and yellow. a sick feeling of horror climbed its way though him as he watched the girl loose her balance during a dodge, having the slip be  taken entirely as a disadvantage, schlatt using it to gain an upper hand. he fired an arrow from a crossbow that dream hadn’t the slightest clue of its origins at the girl, heart slipping a beat as it hit its mark, lodging itself painfully into her left shoulder, sending her reeling to the floor. </p><p>the healer who had helped george was instantly on her feet, rushing to her ally’s side in a heartbeat. a rage boiled underneath his skin, preparing himself to rise up and fight the bastard himself, as he reached for quackity once more, this time pulling him harshly to his feet, forcing the other to look him in the eyes, a glimmering, golden-hilted blade gripped in his right hand, against the other hybrid’s throat. he heard wilbur cry out next to him, a decimated look of guilt on his face as he reached out, only prevention from throwing himself at the two being dream himself, as he held the other in a tight grip, close to his chest. </p><p>as time seemed to slow, dream could only watch in horror as schlatt made moves to slit quackity’s throat, killing his right-hand man once and for all. he was expecting a scream from quackity, but the sound never came. <br/>and so they sat, baited breaths, in silence.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. let’s go home. together.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>they’ve been saved. by who though? <br/>they can’t tell. <br/>which is the point, really- why else would they be wearing masks?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>not me forgetting to update this👁<br/>um<br/>filler chapter is filler chapter pog</p><p>i’ll add the new character tags, plot tags, and clear-up the familial ties in like 1-2 chapters time lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—🌊—</p><p>his head ached, heart pounding loudly in his ears. wilbur felt the collective breath everyone held as schlatt stilled, hand gripped firmly on quackity’s  throat, a gleaming dagger in the other. from where he was collapsed on the floor next to george, he couldn’t see the cause for the stop. <br/>until he could.</p><p>the dagger clattered to the ground, resonating in the silence with a metallic clink, as schlatt’s breath grew raspy and coarse, hands reaching for his stomach. allowing his eyes to follow the ‘president’s’ hands, he could see fairly clearly the blood beginning to stain his white shirt, the blue point of a diamond sword visible through his lower abdomen.<br/>there was suddenly a quick, blood-curdling squelch from their direction, and schlatt promptly crumpled to the ground at quackity’s feet. there was another man behind schlatt though, who stayed standing. it clocked in his mind fairly slowly that this man was the one holding the now bloodied sword that had been the culprit behind schlatt’s death.   <br/>a shaky fear yet dwelling admiration swelled in the pit of his stomach, the man had a billowing red cape, like that of a king’s, as well as objectively noticeable hoofed feet, like a pig’s on human legs. his eyes focused on the mask he wore, however, a muted pink, almost brown in tone, shaped like a pig’s face. it had tusks which were adorned with golden rings, and ears protruding from its sides. the look was surprisingly classy for a man with a long, thin braid that was a pastel pink.<br/>he wasn’t able to focus on the man’s words to quackity, however, because the person who had fired the warning fireworks suddenly spread their wings, allowing their vast wingspan to swiftly guide them to the thick of the commotion. </p><p>as she landed, wilbur noted that she too wore a mask, this time more wolf-like in features, with horns instead of ears. roses framed her head like a crown and her hair was a gentle fade from natural brunette to a creamy, bleached beige. </p><p>from that moment, everything seemed to happen all at once and he started being unable to keep up with it all.<br/>someone put a hand on his shoulder.<br/>the pink haired man said something to quackity.<br/>niki ran to the girl who had fought schlatt’s side with the masked healer.<br/>tubbo and tommy stared up at the winged woman as she addressed phil.<br/>quackity’s body seemed to loose the ability to stay upright, and the boy fell into the pink haired man’s arms almost gracefully.</p><p>he recalled his vision getting all fuzzy, a ringing growing in his ears that you’d only expect to hear if something blew up too close to you. when the haze cleared, he was clearly moving, but not on his own body’s accord. another few seconds of focusing that was much harder than it should have been later, and wil managed to realise that he was on a horse. it wasn’t normal, though, because he was facing the wrong way, body resting in the man riding infront of him’s shoulder. once he realised through the familiar colour of the hoodie’s fabric and the intoxicatingly soothing scent that this person was dream, he allowed his body to relax, melting further into dream’s loving semi-embrace.  he hadn’t the energy to process anything, feeling perfectly content as he began to drift off to sleep on the move.<br/>well, there was always the crippling guilt and haunting fear of what had just taken place, but maybe if he tried hard enough- it’d go away. <br/>but just because he couldn’t see it, didn’t mean it wasn’t happening. <br/>the pink-haired man rode infront of them, quackity slumped into his body similarly to how wilbur was snuggled up to dream.  just behind them was another horse, this one holding just one person- the masked healer, pouches and small bags being clipped on to the horse’s harness. there wasn’t any room for anyone else in the horse, so the healer rode alone. <br/>behind her still was a fourth horse, this one subject to the girl with the lion tail as its rider. her mask was, in fact, that of a kitsune. sat behind her, hands holding on to her shoulders for stability, was niki: one of the people who had chased after him (the others being sapnap and karl, who were also riding a fifth horse behind niki).<br/>and a final horse to the group, tubbo and tommy rode at the very back of the formation, though they were being flanked by phil and the other winged female who had joined the fight with the rest of her masked companions, chatting in a relaxed manor with his father.</p><p>when he came to again, someone was holding him to their chest, walking at a steady pace on even ground. he opened his eyes, letting a small groan escape his lips as his head began to throb again, a familiar feeling that came more often than not, with consciousness. a hushed, gentle whisper in his ear made him relax however, as it’s familiar tone and comforting words made him melt like putty in dream’s embrace.<br/>“shh wil, we’re almost home. we can talk later.”<br/>instead of conceding and going back to sleep, however, he instead held on to the drawstring of dream’s hoodie with his right hand, fiddling with them and picking to focus on them, not wanting to overwhelm his brain with the chaos of the scenario they were thrown into. when the atmosphere got warmer and the lighting got dimmer and homely, wilbur could tell they were back at dream’s house.<br/>that meant safe.<br/>dream sat down on a cushioned chair, still cradling him on his lap, never loosening his embrace which he was surprisingly grateful for. he knew he was normally so tough, stubborn and cold, but... he just couldn’t find the energy within him to fight the exhaustion, to argue. in addition to that, the aggression he showed was always his first line of defence around his emotions, and being with dream almost instantly melted all his walls and unarmed his defences. that was just love, he supposed. it wasn’t something he didn’t like. </p><p>in the haze, his attention was snapped once more to reality when dream stood up again, before walking off as everyone else murmured quietly among themselves. he still felt as though he was still half asleep, which is why when wilbur was placed gently on the bed, he almost fell asleep right then and there, but dream’s knack for hygiene and ideals on comfort stopped him once again, and by some unholy power of god managed to get the both of them changed. wilbur now wore a slightly oversized, muted  red crewneck (because dream had officially decided that that specific fit of shirt is what wilbur looked best in, but also felt most comfortable in) and some more black pyjama shorts. dream was sporting a green crewneck of his own and some similar grey shorts. </p><p>as soon as he let himself flop back into the bed, tiredness began to creep up on the corners of his vision, eyes becoming unbearably difficult to keep open. dream pulled the covers over the both of them and wilbur instantly gravitated towards dream’s body, feeling safe and warm as his arm reached over his side to rest over his chest. wilbur felt whispers of comfort being breathed into his neck, making him snuggle up closer to his warmth, sighing contentedly as he allowed his eyes to shut, breathing in the comforting scent of the man he loved a final time for the day as sleep tugged at his mind before it swiftly won and brought him to the darkness of the slumbering world.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. who the hell are you?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>can we all just get a break and chill, please? like you basically just had a 1-week war that ended an 11 month war leave them in peace please.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>now that i have forced you all to suffer through 12 chapters of angst and build-up, you will now receive 6-9 chapters of fluff? i’ve already written 3, am writing the next 3rn, and am debating on slapping another 3 chapters on</p><p>now, it may be soft, platonic bonding or if i was feeling up to it maybe romantic tooth-rot but hey ho i’m capable of writing soft things</p><p>i know my friend gets notifs for this so hi friend</p><p>also i’ll clear up the familial ties/relationship ties in the notes next chapter lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>despite his reputation of steely cruelty and rampant anarchism, he was a considerably chill and nice guy.<br/>yes, of course the stories were inflamed and tainted by the words of their writers, those who he had successfully dethroned, depowered, and occasionally even murdered. </p><p>that was why when he got an urgent message from an old acquaintance that a notorious psychopath had taken over a small yet budding city and also kidnapped an old friend of his, he was off to assist as soon as he could.<br/>it took a total of 3 hours before they started their journey. he had received the message and instantaneously reported it to his commander, who understood entirely and therefore helping him inform their healer and their hunter about their newest quest. the adventure was met with a normal amount of excitement, though the usually chipper tone of the group was dimmed significantly due to the emotional history the situation held over him.</p><p>the battle had been tense, almost painfully so, but it was won nonetheless and that’s what counted.<br/>schlatt was dead. <br/>instead of revelling in the triumph of his victory, he turned his immediate care to the person now infront of him (asides schlatt’s corpse, of course), concern dancing across his hidden features from behind his mask. using the petal of a specific medicinal flower, he used it to put the boy to sleep, catching him before he could made a graceful descent to the floor. his commander came to join them from her perch, and he could tell she was scanning the people for threats and leaders to explain themselves to. his attention was turned, however, to the blonde and brown haired girl who had requested his assistance in the first place.<br/>“who the hell are you guys?” the voice of a tall male attracted his attention, but before he could reply, niki did:<br/>“sapnap, they’re fine- they’re friends. i called them for backup! they were who i asked for.” niki looked at him, and he could see it in her eyes that she was requesting his permission to introduce him. she wasn’t acquainted with his team yet.<br/>“guys, this is my brother, technoblade. and, of course, his team.”</p><p>techno smiled to himself at the small ripple of shock the words seemed to have, before speaking for the first time-<br/>“thank you for calling, niki. i would hate to imagine what would have happened had we arrived any later,” he spoke, his raspy voice slightly croaky from not being used. his commander suddenly unfolded her wings and lifted herself into the air, shocking some of his sister’s friends into a silenced awe at the sheer size of her wingspan. they were gigantic in comparison to those of the boy he currently held in his arms. speaking of, however, techno almost couldn’t tell the man was winged. a pit in his stomach opened up to swallow his guilt whole as he realised he must have been binding them. <br/>his commander returned soon with their horses, and after exchanging clipped orders with a masked man in a green hoodie, they set off along the worn path that supposedly lead to their home, fantasia. having quackity leaning against his chest felt somewhat familiar, it felt right.  the way he would whisper quiet praises and comforts to him whenever he so much as shifted in his medicinal-induced sleep. he was aware of the comical exchange of sarcastic and witty comments between their youngest member and the 2 young boys from the group they had saved, allowing a proud smile to grace his lips despite the fact that no one would see it.</p><p>tensions rose again, however, when they got to ‘dream’s’ residence. he and dream sat down on opposite chairs, both holding somewhat or entirely unconscious people in their laps. he was focused more on the person he was holding rather than arguing with anyone, allowing his commander to take charge once he had started the whole thing off.<br/>“who even are you? i get technoblade’s niki’s sister, but.. that doesn’t tell us who any of you actually are?”<br/>“rachel is my commander,” he spoke before anyone else could. all attention was on him as he didn’t even lift his gaze to address them.<br/>“all plans we make are polished by her. yvonne is a talented mage and our healer, there is hardly any battle-inflicted aliment that she cannot heal. tuesday is a little sister to us. don’t treat her like one though, she’ll run you into the floor. her stamina impresses me even to this day.”</p><p>and with that, the questions started firing off at them.<br/>“where are you from?”<br/>“why are you here?”<br/>“do you plan on staying?”<br/>“what do you do?”</p><p>rae answered all the questions with no hesitation, and techno reminded himself mentally that he needed to thank her later for the distraction off of him, focus entirely sponged by quackity.</p><p>“far north is our base, but we often travel.”<br/>“we came to kill a psychopath. we’re here now to help in any way we’re needed.”<br/>“if we’re wanted, then possibly yes.”<br/>“we work together and we kill tyrants.”</p><p>although he was absent-mindlessly absorbing the conversation, he was fixated on the boy in his lap. his face was purpled and bruised, a stark contrast on his now abnormally pale skin. the dark bags of his eyes made him look as though he was a ghost, and his hair was a mess underneath his beanie. techno could even still see the tear tracks down his face from a time sobbing over... something. he could only grimly guess what. </p><p>despite the confident answers his commander gave, they were obviously clipped and restrained, so unlike how laid-back and funny she usually was. it was in her nature to overanalyse things and protect those under her care, but he was almost certain that even tuesday, who mind you - was almost entirely socially inept, could tell rae was stressed. so, tues being the girl she was, decided to be the comedic relief they all seemed to desperately need. he appreciated it, but he also really, really, really hated her. a lot.<br/>“okay, awkward introductions- as mystifying and definitely entertaining as they are, aren’t my cup of tea so how about we let the boys go to bed with their boyfriends and talk in the morning?” <br/>snorts and cackles sounded from numerous different people in the room, including rae and yvonne, as the tension eased out slightly. the fantasian leader seemed to choke on his words before agreeing, picking up his boyfriend (as now dubbed by tuesday) and walking to where, he could assume, their chambers were. before they could be ushered anywhere, however, tuesday spoke again:<br/>“oh, yeah, should have asked when they were still here but, eh, oh well. we’ve introduced you all to our amazing selves, but what about you lot? what the hell do you do?”<br/>her tone was friendly and teasing, making other people once again snicker. techno listened and looked out of the corner of his eye, committing each name to a voice and a face by memory as soon as they were said.<br/>he was good with names.<br/>there was niki (obviously), sapnap: a tall and lanky looking male, karl: a petit and curly brown haired boy, george: an incredibly british sounding male with dark hair and absurd glasses, sam: a basic looking brown haired dude with shades, fundy: a ginger male with hybrid features belonging to that of a fox, phil: a blonde male with hybrid tawny brown wings that looked akin to those of an owl, tubbo: a short boy with brown hair, tommy: another short boy with blonde hair but also an incredibly obnoxious voice, the tall-looking boy in the crewneck in dream’s arms was wilbur, purpled: another younger-looking male with brown hair, and quackity: a petit male with features definitive of someone who just needed a goddamn break, who was in his arms (but he already knew that).<br/>there were also other who were mentioned, just not currently present:<br/>eret, jack, lannen, vik, ranboo skeppy and bad.</p><p>a few minutes later, tubbo and tommy lead tuesday to their shared bedroom so she could stay with ‘the youths’ the same age as her, yvonne opting to stay in the same room as fundy, possibly because she saw how desperately he needed medical assistance. rae was to share quarters with george and he was permitted to stay in a guest room with quackity, as he had glared down george as he suggested the two be split up. from the conversation, before he left, techno gathered that phil was not a regular resident of the house either, as he opted to sleep on the couch built in to the window, a view of the city they had fled from visible even in the night. </p><p>the room he was guided too wasn’t large, but it made effective use of its given space so it still felt roomy. placing quackity on the bed, he dropped his small travel bag and quickly got changed, before grabbing a spare hoodie and pants from the room for quackity. he was walking back over to the bed with the clothes when he saw quackity begin to finally stir, twitching and rolling his head from ones side to the other.</p><p>it would only be a matter of moments before the two would finally get to reunite.<br/>properly.</p><p>—🌊—</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. to fly through the desperate fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>quackity wakes up and he’s not in a situation he’d ever logically seen himself in.<br/>sure, he’d wished, but he never imagined his wishes would actually be heard.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>imma be real w/you i don’t remember writing this chapter and i don’t really like it which is why i haven’t updated in a hot second and also why it isn’t proof-read</p><p>sorry not sorry lol </p><p>chapter’s also p short lmao</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>when his eyes opened again, quackity wasn’t expecting the warm glow of a dim light to allow his eyes to see his surroundings properly. <br/>he remembered having this absolutely ludicrous dream, where someone had rescued him from schlatt... not just anybody, no, an old friend of his.<br/>friend? since when had that been their thing?<br/>he still missed him nonetheless.</p><p>quackity let himself get lost in the thoughts before really absorbing the room around him. judging from the warm aura of the room and the distinct lack in the smell of alcohol, he assumed he wasn’t in l’manburg anymore.<br/>but where did that mean he was?<br/>“quackity,” a gruff voice drew his attention to a figure besides him that he had completely missed up until that point. the deep voice sent a shiver running up his spine, ringing familiarly with the memories of the old friend he once had. how did this stranger in a mask know his name anyways?<br/>instead of responding, quackity’s eyes only rose to meet the man’s. he had a tusked mask on that his his face, but from the low glow of the light he could tell that his long, braided hair was pink in colour. his eyes glimmered in an unasked question- ‘who are you?’, before receiving an answer he was wishing for deep within him, the wildest fantasy that miraculously come true.</p><p>his brain didn’t seem to process anything for a little while, and thoughts only seemed to start clocking when he was in a new pair of sweatpants and not in a top. his upper half was shirtless, but the swaths of bandages he used to conceal his wings worked as an almost viable alternative. they were grimy and faded red with blood in some places, compressing his chest and making it a labour to do so much as breath. there was a rough hand gently caressing his cheek, guiding his eyes to look into the other’s as guilt began to bare down on him.<br/>how could he burden anyone with himself like this? it wasn’t right. he wasn’t right. because schlatt was. he was always right. </p><p>the colder air of the room stung his back slightly, a shiver running through him as he felt a bandage get undone, beginning to unravel the fabric binding his wings to his body. as they gained more and more freedom, they began to really feel again.<br/>more than what he was prepared for, in all honesty.<br/>each broken feather, every muscle that was pulled or forced to rest in the wrong position, all the baby feathers growing in the wrong way, everything. even the stinging of untreated wounds at the base of his wings were overwhelming.<br/>as he looked up, a calm wave suddenly swamped him as he realised once more who was caring for him. his heart seemed to ache at the very look of his former friend’s face, now unmasked. they were undeniably the very same eyes, plastered to a slightly scarred and more mature face of techno. </p><p>once the bandages were off, a hoodie was on. this hoodie happened to have holes in the back for his wings, which (surprisingly enough) fit pretty much perfectly. the panic that edged his mind preventing him from fully analysing the reason behind why the hoodie was such a perfect fit, his breath beginning to pick up its pace again, though whirling:<br/>‘what is schlatt finds me? where am i? what’ll he do when he finds me? what’s happening? where are we- where am i what am i doing how did i get here what-‘<br/>his thoughts came to an abrupt stop has something pulled him closer to techno, his head left to lean against his shoulder. the force pulling him into the embrace moving him slightly, so he was now more comfortably sat on his lap, but his thoughts couldn’t stay distracted by their position for long because he felt something begin to stroke the feathers at the base of his wings, catching his breath in his throat. </p><p>he didn’t make a move to stop him, however, so quackity sat in an increasing state of relaxation and calm as techno carded his fingers through his feathers, straightening out the bent ones and gently plucking the broken ones. he was firm yet soft all at once, and quackity found his breathing evening out during the preening. whilst one hand worked to clean out the feathers of one of his wings, the other would run gentle circles on his back or massage the base of his wings. <br/>the present thought of ‘where did he learn this?’ sprung to his mind as techno used techniques that even he didn’t know existed to calm him further. before long, quackity found his eyes tired and his body growing heavy, so he allowed himself to rest his head fully on the shoulder, his arms dropping from the hug-like embrace he held to hand more loosely at his sides. he didn’t have time to figure out it was awkward, because the calm finally washed through him and brought him along to a land of slumber as his eyes shut, more content and calmed than he could remember being for a long, long while. </p><p>he was safe here. in fantasia. with the l’manburgians. with the fantasians.<br/>with techno.</p><p>—🌊—</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. paint the walls in thoughts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>it’s time to wake up and face the music!</p><p>... by that i mean it’s time to have some friendship bonding time. poggers!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>family fluff :))<br/>this is solely platonic there isn’t any romantic fluff for the next coming chapters...<br/>also i lied when i said there’d be more fluff lol the story has a mind of its own i’m merely the scribe lmao</p><p>also clarification bc i promised it lolol:<br/>(lots of this is more relevant for upcoming chapters, so keep that in mind. *ominous foreshadowing music* these are copied and pasted from my storyboard word doc so if some of these come out of the blue then it’s bc they’re relevant in upcoming works lol)<br/>- niki and techno are siblings, wilbur and techno aren’t related in any way. <br/>- techno, rae, tuesday and yvonne aren’t related by blood.<br/>- phil is only wilbur’s dad. he is arguable a bad parent.<br/>- tommy and tubbo are like adopted brothers, but it isn’t official.<br/>- dream and tubbo aren’t related by blood.<br/>- tommy and tubbo aren’t related by blood.<br/>- fundy is wilbur’s adoptive younger brother, they aren’t blood related and they aren’t that close, but they still love eachother.<br/>- phil is actually a really horrible dad lol.<br/>- wilbur has abandonment issues, which is why he’s so loyal to phil. <br/>- techno and phil know eachother from an exposition the two teamed up on a while back, before the marauders were formed. techno doesn’t recognise phil.<br/>- yes phil would hit wilbur as a kid.<br/>- wilbur’s  ‘parenting’ techniques come from his personal experiences with phil, the village who (very poorly) tried to raise him, and his lack of a proper connection with his dad since phil was off doing his knows half the time. he’s improvising the only way he knows how and it’s going p poorly lol. </p><p> </p><p>once again, this chapter is platonic tyvm</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“oh dear god,” the groan escaped her lips before she could even attempt to suppress it, staring up at the ceiling of the room. <br/>“something wrong?” the clipped, british voice sounded distant, as the boy was obviously on the other side of the room, a rough undertone lacing the words.<br/>‘shit,’ she thought harshly. she wasn’t used to sharing a room with anyone other than one of her housemates, so she was on autopilot and hadn’t adjusted herself accordingly to accommodate the new people.<br/>“god, no- it’s fine. just ignore me, i talk to myself sometimes.”<br/>it wasn’t a truth but it wasn’t exactly a lie either.<br/>it wasn’t really ‘fine’, so to say, her head throbbed with a familiar migraine and her body seemed weighed down with tiredness, though the remnants of adrenaline running through her veins prevented her from sleeping.<br/>but she also did tend to mutter things to herself more often than she probably should, so there was some truth behind her words. </p><p>deciding to deflect, she turned her head and asked:<br/>“are you good, though?”<br/>rae had been observing him for quite some time, at first suspicions of his sudden turn to their ally’s side, but after processing the events in more detail, she noticed signs of foul play and dark magic being flagged in her mind left and right. <br/>this ‘george’ was a victim to the worst of dark magic.<br/>“yeah. i’m alright.”<br/>his tone was still clipped, and despite only knowing him for under a day, she could tell how forced and restrained his words were. it took a split second to decide whether or whether not to push it, but she decided to let it go for the time being and respond with a content ‘hmm’, before looking back out the window. the room she was in was decently large, lightly painted green walls and a creamy ceiling. the floor was dark oak and there was a large, rectangular window to its west side, polished with a reclining windowsill with pillows and blankets galore. that was where she was staying, trying to allow her body to relax into the comfort, gazing out fondly into the night sky, the town silently laying below it. their conversation broke off and rae was left to feel the effects of her adrenaline, at last, begin to fade, leaving room for exhaustion to fill her in its wake. as her body got even more tired, rae felt herself allowing her eyes to close, and from then on it wasn’t hard to drift off to sleep.</p><p>when she woke, she was greeted with distant conversation (sounding like it was coming from downstairs) and the sound of pen scratching on paper.<br/>first and foremost, she sat up- stretching her muscles on the process. second, she turned to face the room instead of the window and was slightly shocked to see the covers of george’s bed completely untouched with numerous crumpled up pieces of paper littered everywhere.</p><p>remembering the awkwardness of the night prior, rae managed to shut her mouth before she let out her voice. think about it, you don’t want to mess this up...<br/>“hey, george, right?”<br/>her voice was expertly careful, brows furrowed slightly in a curious manner. the man suddenly stopped his scribbling, looking up at her, eyes widened slightly- he hadn’t realised she was awake yet.<br/>“huh? oh- yeah, that’s me. it’s rae, right?” he replied, his accent foreign to her. she was used to american, not heavily british. <br/>“yup! you drawing?” she asked, letting her voice slip into its more natural, happy, mellow tone. <br/>george looked slightly anxious at that, glancing at the crumpled pieces of paper, before nodding, attempting to cover it with a nervous chuckle:<br/>“oh, yeah- i, i draw sometimes if i’m uh... stressed.” <br/>rae was no idiot, and saw the signs of discomfort as they presented themselves to her. deciding to take it carefully, she decided to ignore the half of that declaration and focus more on something she could brighten the mood with,<br/>“really? what do you like to draw? i’m generally not great myself, i can manage a landscape if i really put my mind to it,” she replied,  beginning to fiddle absent-mindlessly with her hair. after the night’s rest, it was barely being kept in the braid, now messy. so she undid it, letting her hair fall free at her sides, before combing her fingers through it to get ready to braid it again.<br/>“oh, uh, i- anything, really. depends how i feel. i really like drawing animals, though.”<br/>once again picking up on the tone of relief in his voice, she allowed her interest to be piqued:<br/>“ooh! i have a friend who likes to draw, she loves drawing animals too- you like realism or cartoonism?” she continued, letting the conversation flow freely off her tongue as she began to tie her hair in a tight braid.<br/>she was aware of the anxiety begin to fade in the man, his shoulders relaxing as he went along with the chit-chat,<br/>“realism. i- i never really understood the anatomy cartoons. i prefer drawing things i can have infront of me.”<br/>“seriously? awesome! my friend draws more cartoony, cutesy and all that. do you have a favourite thing to draw?” she continued, now done with her braid. after years of practice, she was very quick at doing her hair in the familiar style. she continued fiddling, however this time with the roses in her hair.<br/>“oh- uh, not- not really? um, mobs are fun i guess. there’s a lot of detail, so, yeah.”<br/>she hummed in acknowledgement, making a mental note of what she could, trying to sum up the type of person george was.<br/>as of right now, she didn’t have much to go off, though.<br/>“do you know what time it is?” she asked, putting an end to their slowly dwindling conversation. he fumbled out some response about there being a clock above the window she had slept by, before answering that. was 10 in the morning. <br/>gauging that it had been maybe 10 last night when they got to the city of fantasia, and a further hour or so of ‘settling’ before they had made it to bed, rae couldn’t help but let a low whistle escape her- damn, over 10 hours of sleep? that’s the longest she’s slept in, well, ages. <br/>clearly george hadn’t slept, though, so she decided not to push the subject.<br/>“everyone else seems like they’re up, you wanna go join them?” she asked, letting a playful look dance across her features at the doubt that crossed george’s, <br/>“c’mon, they sound like they’re having fun!”<br/>in return, george turned to her with a dark expression, but she could tell by the grin on his face that he was trying to joking around:<br/>“trust me, it may be fun to them, but believe me when i say it won’t be for us.”<br/>playing along, rae grinned, replying as she stood up-<br/>“oh? is that so? shall we find out, then?”</p><p>george chuckled with her, and she chalked it up to a win in her books.<br/>george obviously needed a distraction, so a distraction she’d make, goddamit.</p><p>—🌊—</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. houselife</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the kids get some time to uhwind.<br/>just some.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>not the chapter title trying to autocorrect to ‘housewife’ lmfAO</p><p>sorry for inactive updates uh<br/>i scrapped about 5k words of chapers bc i didn’t want to deal with the extra roadblock i threw in in the form of super shut ty parenting</p><p>dw phil is still a bad dad lmao</p><p>morning chapter? what?<br/>i think i captured the clingy duo dynamic fairly well, hm?</p><p>also chapter of only domestic fluff. what?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>look,  dealing with emotions had never been his forte. that’s why he’d found himself in the clearing in the woods all those weeks back, and how he had managed to get them dragged into this mess backwards.<br/>he still didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.<br/>he felt better, for one- did he really, though? with things crumbling around them, he felt just as alone in the sudden unity. at least, this time, he had tommy. he had tommy last time, yeah, but this time was just... different, okay?<br/>instead of inner-monologging, tubbo would actually talk. tommy found amusement in his comments so that was a plus, too. after the whole... um.. whatever it was, no one had actually explained to him what had happened yet (part of him thought that is was maybe because no one else really knew what was happening), they seemed to get even closer despite the division that had previously been made between them. tubbo didn’t know why, but tommy didn’t once yell at him for coming to dream when he was upset. <br/>he wasn’t sure what the logic was there, but he’d take what he could get at this point. </p><p>the.. new people? the guys with braids and masks- the marauders, whoever they were- the guys who had come and saved their asses, anyways, they had stayed the night in dream’s house, which was, safe to say, making good use of all the guest bedrooms.<br/>now no one could poke fun at dream for having a large home anymore. ha. (he’d remembered dream telling him during one of their meet-ups how george and sapnap had teased him for expecting people to want to stay over.)</p><p>the kitchen wasn’t overcrowded. nope. nuh-uh. it was totally, definitely empty.<br/>bad and niki weren’t talking with yvonne about fundy, nope. fundy wasn’t sat right next to them either, not at all.<br/>karl, sapnap and sam weren’t talking to eachother, sat at the counter. no- what an outrageous idea!<br/>why on earth would any of them- oh, you get the point.<br/>it was fucking crowded.</p><p>tommy didn’t seem to have a care in the world about that, however, continuing to have his bafflingly loud conversation with the girl who had roomed with them that night.<br/>they’d found out her name was tuesday, and he’d smiled to himself for that.<br/>the 3 ts. <br/>tubbo followed, trying to quiet them, inwardly cringing at how socially inept both seemed to be, apparently incapable of reading the goddamn room.<br/>people turned to look at them, but didn’t comment. tubbo waited for the yells, like he’d have expected from wilbur, but none came.<br/>they were... letting them be disruptive?</p><p>when tommy turned to him, asking blatantly:<br/>“tubbo, do you think tuesday’s a woman? women are meant to be attractive, so either she’s lying or somethings gone wrong-“<br/>“tommy!” tuesday’s quip was exasperated and loud, like a snort, in good humour. he couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, processing the ridiculousness of tommy’s question.<br/>“wh-what?! tommy!” he managed to wheeze, before all 3 became laughing heaps on the floor, struggling to fight for oxygen as they cackled away.</p><p>“tom-tommy, you- you can’t-“ he choked out, between wheezy breaths that could rival dream’s, “you can’t just say that, tommy!” he tried to scold, but the incessant giggling and chortling evaporated any sense of threat he could have held.<br/>“i can do what i want to, bitch! you can’t stop me!” tommy barked, bursting into another fit of laughter, when tuesday flipped over to try and pin him to the floor.<br/>“you little rat!” she proclaimed, before getting to her feet and running after tommy with outstanding speed when his friend made a mad dash for the door. tubbo cackled, getting to his feet (slower than tuesday and tommy) and following behind them, shutting the door as he left. </p><p>tommy hadn’t got very far, tuesday had tacked him next to the training grounds, right outside the kitchen’s window. he howled with laughter as tommy’s girl-like squeal filled the air, having just been pinned with frightening ferocity by tuesday. she still had her mask on, but despite that he could still see the smile behind the shield of porcelain. <br/>“tommy, do you yield?” she asked in a faux serious tone, though he could tell by the exited quiver of her tail that she was faking.<br/>“never, bitch! i stand by what i said! you’re no woman! i would know!” <br/>tubbo found himself cackling at his friend’s antics more than feeling inclined to help him, dropping to his knees on the grass to clutch his chest, hoping to actually inhale some air. <br/>“tubbo, you bitch - come help me! i refuse to be beaten by a girl!”<br/>they all shook with the force of their laughter, barely able to form his response-<br/>“tom- tommy, you- you did this to yourself!” <br/>before they could catch their breath, a voice called from the door they had barged through only mere minutes ago-<br/>“tuesday!”<br/>the girl looked up, and tubbo’s gaze followed. the mage was stood at the door, posture somewhat displeased.<br/>“what do you want, yvonne?” tuesday replied, body slacking from the lack of laughter tensing her muscles. her head turned to the door, mask facing the other marauder’s.<br/>“your shoulder.” the mage prompted, earning a disdained ‘tsk’ from tuesday, <br/>“it’s fine, v. i’m alright!” her tone was lazy, unbothered almost.<br/>“no it’s not. come over here.”<br/>tuesday groaned and tommy made a disappointed face, but she got up and walked back inside none the less, door shutting promptly.</p><p>when he had processed it, a shit-eating grin crossed his face.<br/>“what? what’s so funny, bitch-boy?” tommy barked, and tubbo could tell the genuine annoyance in his voice now.<br/>“you- you just got laid out by- by a ‘girl’ who- who just-“<br/>“shut uuuup!” tommy interrupted, knowing where he was leading. a fun-natured grin formed on tommy’s face as well, though, and the two giggled on the floor still, subconsciously thanking whatever deity was out there for such an amazing distraction.</p><p>—🌊—</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>comments feed my ego<br/>i need ideas to help smooth out plot transitions sksksk</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. tale as old as time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>domestic fluff fueled me the night i wrote this chapter, and the next one.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>mmm chapters have gotten shorter but like,,<br/>i’m p sure the one i just wrote was like 2k so hm<br/>it’s literally one of the longest fucking chapters that just sits there  explaining backstory and introducing new threats literally wtf<br/>no rest for the angsty lmao</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>dream had slept a calm and full night, the unfamiliar yet so... perfect grounding weight of wilbur next to him anchoring him through the night, banishing his nightmares. <br/>he was there, in his arms, safe. because as long as dream could hold him, wilbur would be safe. <br/>and as long as wilbur stayed, he would be too. </p><p>he had, admittedly, woken up a while ago, but something within him stopped him from getting up and getting ready. he felt as though he could finally be calm, whole- protected, so call him selfish dammit but he would be taking what he got.<br/>by the time wilbur began to stir the sun was filtering in through the gap in the windows, not quite blocked out by the pulled curtains. despite this they lay in bed together, longer still, embracing the comforting warmth of the other’s presence for as long as humanly possible.</p><p>dream would have been perfectly content in staying there all day, despite knowing he had things he ought to do, but alas, it was never meant to be.<br/>a shriek from the kitchen downstairs broke the silence that had made a comforting blanket over them.<br/>gauging by its tone, however, (high-pitched, male, followed by laughter) there was only one person he decided could have been the culprit for creating such an atrocious sound.<br/>wilbur obviously knew too, because he let out a wheezy chuckle, before speaking for the first time since he ran off:<br/>“that’d be my boy. i should probably make sure he isn’t dying or anything,” wil supplied, drawing a wheeze of his own.<br/>“good idea.” he replied, rising from the bed moments after wilbur did.</p><p>through the tenseness of the situation, dream was glad that the children could get their fun. they had a surprising number of minors fighting and it was probably about time someone did some did about that. <br/>hearing tommy’s childish scream filled him with an unexpected warmth. after a few minutes of listening to the squeals and laughter from downstairs, dream huffed and decided that they should probably get up to do things now. it was like., already 10am. wow. he got up and followed wilbur downstairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes, only to see tubbo and tommy walking back inside after apparently leaving the kitchen, hair ruffled and breathless, smiles plastered into their faces. as dream left to go ‘confront’ the pair, he took his time to make a mental note of everything happening around him.<br/>bad and niki were with fundy, looking surprisingly relaxed. he could swear fundy’s wounds were practically gone, but that didn’t make sense because it had barely been a week-<br/>sam and karl were making breakfast, again, though this time only for themselves. sapnap was talking with them, expressively waving his arms around to emphasise... whatever it was that he was talking about.<br/>asides from that, there was wilbur now chucking with tommy and tubbo, teasing them as ‘per usual’, but also the mage he had allowed residence in his home from the masked group of people- yvonne, and their youngest, tuesday. she was tending to the wounded shoulder she had gotten from the fight the night prior, pulling down the hem of her purple shirt to allow the healer to see the damage.<br/>in addition to them, george was also there, sat at the table with a bemused expression. swirls of darker emotions seemed to cross his eyes as he watched, but dream opted to not dwell on that fact and instead favoured to take in the fact that another of the masked group, rachel- if he was remembering correctly, was sat next to him, a cup of coffee in her hands a dark contrast to the tea in george’s. he would have enjoyed picking up what they were smiling about, but his attention was once again drawn to the 3 former heads of l’manburg.<br/>“tommy, no. absolutely not. no way.”<br/>“come on, big man!”<br/>“no!”<br/>“come on, bitch boy- we know you can! why won’t you?”<br/>the conversation was still good-humoured, though tones of irritation had started seeping into wilbur’s voice.<br/>“for god’s sake tommy, i don’t want too, alright?”<br/>“why not? you haven’t done it in ages, don’t you like to si-“<br/>“tommy i swear to god if you don’t shut up right now i will hit you,”<br/>tommy scoffed, but took the hint and backed down. he walked over to them, sass in his step, before asking:<br/>“do what? what don’t you want to do, hm?”<br/>his tone was playful and light, as he received a somewhat genuine eyeroll from wilbur and a cracked grin from tommy (though he also noticed how uneasy he seemed to be in his presence. tubbo did too, apparently, because he placed a placating hand on his shoulder which tommy didn’t protest about.), who replied to him for the older:<br/>“big w doesn’t want to sing.”</p><p>memories rushed through him- memories of a simpler time, emotions running through his body and making his fingertips tingle.</p><p>wilbur’s songs. his singing, his guitar, his playing. <br/>he looked to wilbur, who returned the look with somewhat distant, cloudy eyes. <br/>“well, wil, would you be willing to play for me? for old time’s sake?”</p><p>—🌊—</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>place your bets<br/>what’s wilbur gonna sing for his boy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. heatwaves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>what. were you expecting me to not make wilbur sing heatwaves?<br/>smh.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i actually have concept art for this scene, look at me go :)<br/>would be cool if i knew how to add it lmfaooo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>sat on the cushioned windowsill in dream’s room, wilbur cradled a polished, old guitar that he vaguely recognised as one of his older ones.<br/>dream had kept it.<br/>the thought sent a smile straight to his face as something fluttered in his chest, making his fingers almost quiver with joy. it was horribly out of tune, but nothing he couldn’t fix. it took only a few minutes to tune, acutely aware of dream’s gaze watching his every move from the bed. </p><p>once he had it tuned, his fingers reached for the strings, hovering slightly. hesitantly. fingers ghosted the strings, plucking some occasionally to test the waters, trying to pull himself back into the deep of it, urging the music to pull him under its depths so he could hear their rhythmic waves in the form of melodic notes.<br/>after a minute or so, a memory of a small melody filled his mind and ushered his fingers into an instinctual rhythm, pulling at strings and pressing notes like second instinct. </p><p>the tune drifted through him, playing through his fingers. the music filled him up, coursing through his mind as memories flowed and danced with each plucked note.<br/>after not long at all, he started quietly singing the lyrics that accompanied the beautiful melody.<br/>“road shimmer, wiggling the vision.”<br/>“heat, heat waves i’m swimming in a mirror.”</p><p>the words fell from his mouth like a practiced tale, filling the quiet room with practiced ease. he repeated the phrases again, before moving on, lyrics tumbling like a gentle waterfall.<br/>“sometimes all i think about it you, late night in the middle of june. heat waves been fakin’ me out, can’t make you happier now.”</p><p>he could feel the music resonate within him, a feeling of fullness rising within his chest, as if he was one with the song. practiced words continued to fall as his fingers expertly plucked against the strings, barely hesitating with little to no errors. <br/>if it hadn’t been as long as it had, the melody would have been perfect.</p><p>but just as soon as the feeling came, it left as the song came to an end, his fingers stopping when they ran out of melody to play, perched still in their final position. his brain was still flooded with images of a simpler time, before everything had gone to shit, when they were happier. things hadn’t been perfect by any means, but they had eachother. that was all that mattered. <br/>snapping out of his daze, he was brought back to the present by dream, who had come to sit next to him, whispering,<br/>“you still remember that song?”<br/>he nodded, smiling, not fully managing to suppress the instinctive flinch he gave when dream brought his hand up to cup his cheek, the other removing the guitar from his hands and leaning it up against the window.<br/>if he noticed his small, sharp flinch, he didn’t comment. <br/>“that was amazing.”<br/>the fluttering feeling in his chest returned, joy curling inside him at the breathless praise. his face felt hot and flushed and he could only assume that he was blushing, his assumptions all but confirmed by dream’s wheezy chuckle. right then and there, he wasn’t sure why it had taken hours of soft convincing and gentle nudges. he hadn’t felt this calm in ages, anxieties draining from his body through each melodic note he played. <br/>dream pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly as he brought a hand to his neck, fingers carding through his curly brown locks. wilbur revealed in the attention, sinking into the hug and allowing himself to relax, the touch quelling his fears and irrational paranoia of being left behind. </p><p>dream asked him something not long after that took him rather by surprise.<br/>“are you still general of l’manberg?”<br/>he paused, tensing slightly, but relaxing again when dream’s fingers began working through the hair at the nape of his neck once again. the touch was gentle and soothing and wilbur let go of his worries, letting him speak the words he’d been trying to come to terms with since he’d rediscovered that dream was his freckles. as he articulated each word, he seemed to find more confidence in the next, suddenly not finding the prospect of l’manberg all that appealing.<br/>“there isn’t really a l’manberg to be general of anymore, is there?” he replied, before, at last, communicating his final decision- “no. i don’t think i am.”<br/>dream’s body seemed to loose a straining tenacity that he has scarcely noticed was there in the first place, exhaling:<br/>“good. techno and rae have some friends, we were wondering if they could stay in l’manberg, but we’d need your permission first.” he informed, letting wilbur connect the dots as to why dream had been called off earlier that day, dragged away from him with urgencies of ‘important business’. he hummed, his voice still quiet yet still filled with a fraction of the hard exterior he’d mascaraed behind as ‘the general’,<br/>“i don’t think i’d have minded either way. who are they?”</p><p>“a group of travellers- they call themselves ‘the rebellion’, ironically. they raid the greater empire more often than not, they’re at war.”</p><p>he once again hummed his acknowledgment, mind being drawn back to his memories of the greater empire. then, a stray thought crossed his mind- sowing doubt into his thoughts and heightening his senses to a higher alertness with the proceeding alarm.<br/>“hey, wasn’t schlatt a part of the greater empire after he was exiled from fantasia?”<br/>his brain took a moment to clock his own words, before he instinctively stiffened at the conclusion he’d jumped too, almost in sync with dream.<br/>“oh. right.”</p><p>panic continued ebbed into his mind as dream gave a stifled response, hands stopping their reassuring gestures.</p><p>they were probably in trouble now, weren’t they?</p><p> </p><p>—🌊—</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i’m embracing my inner chaos and am setting up quite a few people to get murdered um<br/>i’m not sorry, i don’t want to incorporate time-travel or visits from hell and back in this<br/>will include parasitic eggs, maybe.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>planning a war, ammiright boys?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>welcome to exposition.<br/>that is all.</p><p>also the ‘*’s if you read them are bc the app i use to write translates them to whatever is between them as italics, so, uh, sorry.<br/>i didn’t know if it would work, so they’re here for the next few chapters sorry lol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“hey, karl?”</p><p>the brunette turned to him, smile pursed on his lips,<br/>“yeah?”</p><p>he chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he sipped on the smoothie he had made himself, the refreshing taste of bananas and strawberries coating his tongue, grinning as he swallowed the freshly-made drink.</p><p>“toast.”</p><p>the word was simple, making karl frown in confusion, until-</p><p>“oh god the toast!”</p><p>the brunette exclaimed, dashing for the toaster. he popped the bread out, only to find it charred and black and practically inedible. he huffed in an upset manner, which only tipped him to cackle at his ‘misery’ even more.</p><p>“shut up, sapnap! you could have warned me sooner!”</p><p>he scoffed, taking another sip of his smoothie.</p><p>“karl that would be, what, your 9th piece of toast today? you’ll be fine.” </p><p>he smiled at the playful, child-like pout karl gave him, as he tossed the blackened bread into the bin. <br/>it had been several hours since wilbur and dream had receded back into their room, soft music and harmonies filling the halls in a quiet echo for a brief few minutes, dream being the only one to show his face after the fact, because the guests they’d taken in, invited by niki, had requested they talked.</p><p>dream wasn’t really the man for the talk, however. he was.<br/>dream was more caught up in the rebellion war, not with the greater empire. he was more so in charge of that, along with punz.<br/>in the past few weeks, the rebellion had posed a much larger threat, proximity and activity and all, so his attention with the greater empire had slackened. <br/>this, in turn, proved to be a huge mistake, because now they had an empty rebellion camp that could stand as a city (how the *hell * the rebellion had managed to build such impressive buildings under such pressure was absolutely lost to him), and he had received word on his communicator from the southern wall of the city that the greater empire appeared to be making moves to attack.<br/>fun.</p><p>the good news was that they now had a more united front, not wasting supplies in another war whilst also having resources their former enemies possessed, but the bad news was that they were horribly unorganised and the greater empire was fucking *huge*. besides from that, he let himself watch as rae, talking amiably with both george and purpled (impressive much?), wrote a letter that he was fortunately privy to know the details of.<br/>she was inviting the rebel force to come to the l’manberg grounds and set up there as a base camp.<br/>now, he didn’t know what the force entailed, but from rae and techno’s ‘brief’ description of the bunch, he could tell they were all assets.</p><p>*”so, if we were to accept them- we’d need at least a slight idea of what to expect first. who are they? anything - numbers, skills, hell- we’ll take talents and personalities. details. facts. now.”*<br/>*his voice had held a commanding tone, one he was familiar with using on soldiers and troops. the look techno gave him was one of slight irritation, the roots of which he couldn’t directly root, but rae’s face held a lofty, smug grin as she replied:*<br/>*”it would be my genuine pleasure.”*</p><p>so, that’s how he knew about the rather intimidating group of rebels.</p><p>there was micheal, small and child-like on first glance in demeanour, but an absolute crackpot of ideas and fun on second glance. he made things with no filter whatsoever, which could result in messy shenanigans but the sheer genius of what he had planned always managed to balance out the stupidity of the failure, if it did. that was rare, however- micheal was supposedly a stubborn man and refused to be shown up by an inanimate object. <br/>matthew, or ‘mat’, as he was referred to by rae, was an incredibly smart individual who could problem solve most anything with maths and science, always taking a logical and thought-through plan. he was an analyst who rarely ever missed the blink of an eye, though he was also decently light-hearted and loved to cackle at that which he finds amusing. <br/>out of the core group of 9, the 3rd of the humans was lud. the sheer number of hybrids was surprising, but considering that the greater empire was home to an abnormal number of hybrids, he rode off that small detail, assuming they had all been exiled for one reason or another. lud was apparently a sweet talker, practically a conman. he could talk and talk and talk until you didn’t know what you had started with, slipping through the grasps of the conversation like a surprise escape hatch you’d never seen him take. he could talk you in or out of anything, supposedly. he wasn’t quite willing just yet to test that theory.<br/>there were 6 others that rae gave by name, and detailed, despite listing at least 10 more names on top of that, there were more but his mind was still grappling with the information that amassed with the persons he was privy to the details of.<br/>mark and ethan were twins, but behaved more like weirdly linked best friends. they were, collectively, a yin-and-yang type demon, mark representing the darker half- dressing in black sleeve-less vests and white button-ups, paired with a red-dipped demon’s tail, like bad’s, and a pair of dark horns. ethan was the invert of him, representing the light side of the balance, his hybrid traits being lighter in colour- white, dipped in blue. they were constantly together, and constantly chaos. the two were linked, of course, and could communicate with eachother, and eachother only, through their minds despite the distance between them.<br/>once all the information has been dumped on him, he’d headed to his room, then further into his study- adding notes and descriptions to his (cliche, yes, but incredibly helpful) cork-board of all the new players in their twisted game of life.<br/>lily was the next person he’d written up in notes, recalling the shorter details they’d been given, almost scarily brief. she was a nymph-like hybrid, akin to a siren. she had these iridescent, pink wings that apparently did just about fuck-all when it came to flying, like tissue paper. she could, however, sing. ‘voice of the sea’ is what rae had called it, which could only mean one thing. her song was enchanted, swaying the wills of all men who heard. maybe - he wasn’t sure on details, he was never really into sea-type hybrids, he much preferred the more ghastly and nether-originating hybrids, those who sparked flames.<br/>which was, coincidentally, what the next person appeared to be. it was rare to come across a dragon hybrids, the land those creatures lived in being foretold to be too far for any human to travel in their mortal life. still, jack was a rather friendly man to be a dragon hybrid, coming equipped with scaled-to-fit-human wings, horns and tail- also coming with the bonus of fire-impervious skin. the personality rae gave didn’t match the fiery creature he was a part of, so he added brief notations of his scepticism of the honesty of his description to his notes, making sure to state clearly in a separate note that all of the descriptions were to be taken with a grain of salt.<br/>the next were given as a pair, but he couldn’t find any true correlation between the two apart from their witch-descending traits. sykkuno was supposedly gifted with a rare talent called ‘leafspeak’, which was solely a genetically transferred power through a distinct, assumed to be deceased, lineage. it allowed him to talk fluently with the plants- grass, trees, flowers ; and the animals, no matter the location. it was more useful in the past, yet still an admirable quality that he was fairly certain was complete bullshit to still be active. <br/>the other, corpse (a gruesomely odd choice in words, he’d also noted), was more of a direct witch descendant, having gifted abilities in the darker magics. all people were capable of dark magic, but if not directly hybrid or descended from the original creators of the magic itself, you would only be able to use a minuscule fraction of the powers. if you were descended, all the spells, curses, rituals, enchantments - they were all on the table for you to use, albeit with practice and time.</p><p>the other names he could recall being given, though not detailed, were tina, imane, leslie, brooke, conner, charlie, puffy, ponk, ash, 5 and ted. there were a few more, but it was nothing his brain could be bothered to recall at the current moment. he had left his study for a reason, not wanting to spend hours looking at the damn thing, despite how tempting that alternative may be. he wanted so badly to focus on enjoying himself and relaxing, winding down and celebrating the end of a war- but that was unfortunately not an option for him, his responsibilities tipping him back to his study after he gave an apologetic ‘bye’ to karl, before heading back to his room to re-enter his study.</p><p>his cork-board was now much more cluttered, yellow post-it notes pinned precariously next to images, littered with blue and pink notes too.<br/>he had colour coded the damn thing and everything.<br/>yellow post-it’s represented allies or friendly aims.<br/>pink post-it’s represented enemies and unfriendly goals.<br/>blue was looser questions that didn’t yet have a clear answer or allegiance, like ‘why’, ‘when’ and ‘how’.</p><p>he also had lined card with written details, images often pinned next to them. these cards were ‘context cards’ of sorts, like how he’d written up the names and given traits of the rebellion.</p><p>“*rebellion extended group : 20+ people*<br/>* - extension of ‘marauders’*<br/>*leaders (?) : technoblade (piglin), possibly lud (human), mat (human), jack (dragon)*<br/>*also consists of : lily (siren?), mark+ethan (yin&amp;yang demon?),  corpse (dark mage), sykkuno (leafspeaker), micheal (human) ;*<br/>*unknown listed members : imane, 5, charlie, puffy, leslie, brooke, ponk. conner, ted, ash* “</p><p>pinned next to it was a yellow sticky note that read:<br/>“ *friends of marauders - hear them out* “<br/>and a blue one:<br/>“ *threat level? above average, if not more* “</p><p>there were other white cards that detailed the new prison - pandora’s vault, the members of fantasia’s ‘elite force’ (dream’s friends, in other words), the members of l’manberg (which he had changed from having a pink sticky note to a yellow), the agreement with eret that detailed his transfer, as well as various background checks of former enemies, l’manbergian’s. the other white card of great notice was the centre one of his board- the one detailing everything he knew about the greater empire and their royal guard, the information spilling over 3 full white cards. each name sent memories shivering up his spine, a tingle that was reminiscent of fear that he did not enjoy whatsoever. cold dread clung to them, making him want to give in to the destructive impulse of lighting everything on fire so he never had to fear the cold again</p><p>“ *no singular active leader ; organised by renowned assassins and mercs felix, jimmy and hafu.* “</p><p>3 of the smartest people out there, the infamous tales that came with the people struck fear into even people like him ; extinguishing their roaring flames of bravery with cunning and strength so cold it could lead the lands into another ice-age.<br/>sapnap felt relieved every time he reminded himself that he hadn’t yet had to face most of them, though his heart dropped when he took into account how close to death he’d come when he’d merely met one of their goons.<br/>his name was dave, and sapnap swore that the next time he saw the man he’d either kill him, or run away as fast as he could.<br/>sapnap never liked to run.</p><p>what irked him most, though, was the fact that most of the greater empire had no known weaknesses, *whatsoever*. those who knew about said weaknesses were presumably at least 6 feet under by now. almost certainly more. his fingers curled into half-fists, clenching the wood of his desk as his knuckles turned white. the map hat lay speed across the table was detailed with a central fantasia, the nearby l’manberg camp which he had marked off to say ‘friendly’ instead of ‘hostile’, the ever present nation of the greater empire, now marked with ‘active threat’, as well as a rough marking of where techno’s backup was located- represented by a red token he could move at will of need be. the red token sat a good ways out from marksman’s meadow, just beyond the ruins of the old one’s castle. gauging from rae’s description of the group, if the message was received in the assumed timeframe, the cavalry would be in l’manberg in just under 3 days. </p><p>that was too long.</p><p>knowing the greater empire, and whom they had leading the charge against them, they had 2 days to prepare.<br/>tops. he grit his teeth, intel and alternative possibilities running through his mind at dangerous speeds.<br/>he knew of the greater empire’s wrath, trying to figure out ways to beat their generals. from his lesser experience with them (and unfortunately being the one with the most experience handling them), he could only form flimsy here-about a of how to attempt to confront them.<br/>felix was a man with more men than could ever possibly be good for him, and he knew how to keep them in line. his heart was ice, and no hope of a thaw was in anyone’s minds. his only idea was to get the man alone, as he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, which was seemingly impossible as he was constantly puppy-guarded by stupidly over-armed guards. <br/>jimmy was a man with all the gold you could possibly dream of : more than your wildest imagination. top that off with being a good salesman who knew how to spend his masses of gold well and wisely, the army supplied by felix was bound to be armed with an assortment of deadly weapons. getting to him would be tough, but jimmy was also notoriously bad in hand-to-hand combat, so he could weigh that in and try to use that to their advantage.<br/>hafu was a menace. she was the cunning and strength behind a lot of their operations, her intel stretching further than would conceivably be possible. a strikingly good swordswoman and talented beyond anything he’d seen with anything close-quarters. her silver tongue was rumoured to have gotten her out of trouble many times in her youth, but the local intel (highly scarce, as it was) had lead him to believe otherwise. the only what he could fathom bringing her down was with a single, surprise attack in the form of a well-shot, deadly accurate arrow.<br/>preferably dipped in poison, just to make sure.<br/>and on fire. anything on fire was better if he hated it.</p><p>his head throbbed, he was almost certain anyone entering his study would be able to hear it. the sound of his thoughts and his huffs of frustration were becoming tiring to his ears, yet his brain was so awake he couldn’t possibly imagine falling asleep at a time like this. <br/>he’d be able to figure this out faster if he was well rested...<br/>the thoughts would keep him awake, he decided. what was the point of trying and failing to fall asleep when he could be actively engaging his mind in what was keeping him up, anyways?<br/>it was already probably in the early hours of the morning, too.</p><p>his brain turned over to the other generals, ones he was more accustomed with. ones he could structure a more secure plan of defence with.<br/>dave was the man who’d almost bested him, a terrifying balance of scarily persuasive speech, charm, and heartlessness. he’d twist and mold people in the palm of his hand, using his charisma and persuasive tones to twist unknowing henchmen into doing his dirty work, remorseless when it came to doing it himself as well. the only flaw he could figure with him was his raging stubbornness- meaning that if he had his mind set on something - say, murdering him, he’d stop and nothing to get it done, and do it himself. he refused help when given most of the time, and was known to drive himself almost to death to get what he wanted done.<br/>okay, that was something he could work with... maybe...<br/>toast was a man and a half, truly the silver-tongued psychopath he was made out to be. he’d play with his prey for the funsies, gaining and breaking trusts like they were christmas crackers, in the blink of an eye. he’d been exiled from no less than 5 other empires before being promoted to general in the greater empire, having talked his way from the gallows in each place he passed through. his weakness came in brawn, as he was also supposedly a weaker physique.<br/>if he could keep him quiet, he’d surely be no problem. right?<br/>swagger was an odd ball, not a good one at that. his power came sheerly from his ability to give absolutely no fucks about anything; sentenced to death? nah. he was fine. his contagious calmness was inherently trustworthy for those blind to who he was, and since no person (living, that is) had seen his face, it was impossible to tell wether or wether not you were being indoctrinated into his schemes or not. <br/>in all honesty, he had no idea how to deal with him. swagger was a wild card, in simple terms. he was an agent of chaos.</p><p>now, if swagger was an agent of chaos, minx was the god of it. anger, chaos, and just *noise* was left constantly in her wake, everyone around her seemingly catching her infectious anger and turning on oneanother. he didn’t even know how she did it since it was such utter pandemonium wherever she went, he’d never managed to figure out *why* people were fighting, just that they were very much, *definitely* trying to kill eachother.<br/>yeah, he was pretty stumped.</p><p>what-if’s and what-about’s reigned supreme in his mind, causing an unquenchable storm of chaos and half-assed plans in his mind. </p><p>how the fuck was he meant to go about this?</p><p>—🌊—</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>THIS IS MY LONGEST CHAPTER WHAT THE- WHAT <br/>WHAT THE H E L L</p><p>time to add new character tags xx</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>congrats on reading this far ig</p><p>since this is pre-written, i’ll be updating frequently (when i remember) with chapters that are ready to be released. :)</p><p>since i’m a good way through the story, i can’t really fit in any other ideas but if i do sink into writers block by the time all pre-finished chapters are out, then i’ll probs be open for ideas.</p><p> </p><p>:D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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